


Something Bollocksed

by deathmarkedlove_archivist



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-29
Updated: 2007-01-29
Packaged: 2019-05-09 11:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14715470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathmarkedlove_archivist/pseuds/deathmarkedlove_archivist
Summary: Something Blue AU. The spell isn't as easily fixed and a few more things go wrong before it is. PG-13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PG-13
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own them.
> 
> Summary: Something Blue AU. The spell isn't as easily fixed and a few more things go wrong before it is. B/S

Chapter 1

 

Something Bollocksed

  
Willow sat at a table in a dark corner of the Bronze, sipping her third beer. She didn't want to see any of her friends tonight. They didn't understand what she was going through, although they kept trying to tell her they did. A night of wallowing was what she needed, with no interruptions from well-meaning, yet oblivious, friends.

"Hey, is this table reserved for the hopelessly maudlin? 'Cause I've been sent to bring cheer."

Willow glanced up and smiled wanly. "Hi, Riley."

He stood, uncomfortably. "Um, can I sit down?"

She shrugged and he sat.

"So, how's it going?"

 

  
Giles sighed, rubbed his eyes again, and leaned back against the couch. He was sightless - hopefully temporarily - and Xander had become a magnet for demons. That was all bad enough, but Buffy and Spike were madly in love and planning their nuptials. The consequences of that particular event didn't bear thinking about and Giles refused to dwell on it. He could, however, correct the cause of it all, which they'd determined was a do-thy-will spell cast by Willow, but he couldn't remove it without her.

Xander said, "What's to stop demons from busting in here?"

Giles looked disturbed. "Nothing." He got up and crossed to his desk, nearly tripping in the process. Xander lunged for him and grabbed his arm.

"What are you doing, Giles?"

"I know a spell that repels demons."

"Really? Then, why haven't we used it on Spike before now?"

Giles grumbled. "You may have a point. Perhaps we should cast it on Buffy."

Xander looked disgusted. "I don't like her being alone with Spike."

"They went to find Willow."

"I know. Maybe I shoulda' gone with them."

Giles shook his head. "It's too dangerous."

Xander, not willing to let it go, said, "You shouldn't of let Spike go. I mean, what kind of help is he anyway?"

"I didn't really have a choice, Xander," Giles said, perturbed. "I can't see and Buffy was quite adamant about Spike going."

He raised his hands. "Okay. Sorry. Can I do anything?"

Giles sat at his desk. "I'll need a few things."

"If there's one thing I can do, Giles, it's get things. Donuts, magical herbs . . . demons . . . syphilis. . . ."

"Yes, good," Giles said, distracted. "I'll need Anya. Where is she?"

"Right here," she called from the kitchen. "Do you want me to cast a spell, Giles?" She left the kitchen and joined them at the desk. "Because, I can still cast spells. They usually go pretty well," she said, nodding.

Xander looked at her, worried. "Pretty well?"

 

  
Willow glared at the happy couples on the dance floor. Her mouth curled into a frown. "I need to be less doormatty."

"Willow, you're not a doormat."

"I can't tell people no," she said, helplessly.

He shrugged. "You like to help people."

"And I'm gullible."

"You are not gullible."

"I wish I was more assertive."

Riley nodded. "Assertive is good." He took a sip of his beer. "You can work on it."

"And aggressive."

"Assertive is better."

"And more . . . more . . . vociferous."

Riley raised an eyebrow. "How about candid?"

"And definitely more audacious," she said with a nod. "It's kinda'. . . ."

"How about confident? That's a little less -."

"Dangerous."

"Extreme."

"What?"

"Not as forward."

"What are you talking about?"

"Never mind."

Willow shrugged and returned her gaze to the dance floor.

 

  
"So, Giles, I repel demons now?" Xander asked.

"Yes . . . well, I think so." He frowned. "It's up in the air, actually."

Xander gaped.

"It's because you already had another spell effecting you," Anya explained.

Giles was starting to feel the stress of the situation. He rubbed his eyes again, although no amount of rubbing seemed to help. "We don't really know what will happen, Xander."

"So, how do I find out?"

Giles shrugged. "Well, I'd say if a demon doesn't hurl himself at you in the next hour or so, it should be safe enough."

The door opened and Buffy and Spike entered.

"Where's Willow?" Anya asked.

"Couldn't find her."

"Did you actually look?" Giles asked, severely. "Or did you get distracted again?"

Buffy looked shocked. "We did not get sidetracked." She glanced at Spike. "Well, not much."

"She doesn't wanna' be found right now, Watcher," Spike said, moving to sit on the sofa. "Relax. She'll turn up."

Giles sighed. "Well, thank you, Spike. I'm sure everything will work itself out just splendidly."

Buffy joined Spike on the couch, leaning comfortably on him. "I don't know what else we can do, Giles."

Giles sighed in annoyance. "Buffy, do you think you could try to focus?"

"I am focused."

"No, you're not. It's the spell, Buffy. You've got to try and ignore its effects."

She turned around to look at him. "I told you, Giles, it hasn't effected me. Slayer strength probably."

Xander marched around to confront Buffy and Spike. "You're marrying Spike!" he said, gesturing at Spike. "He's a vampire and he's evil. Isn't there some part of the slayer in there that's setting off some bells, Buff?"

Buffy frowned. "I don't know why you can't -."

Spike jumped off the couch, caught in a fit of gagging.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Buffy asked, leaping up and grabbing his arm.

Spike covered his nose and leaned over, clutching his stomach.

"Spike!" Buffy wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Bloody hell," he managed. "What . . . I can't talk." He pushed away and crossed to the kitchen.

"What's going on?" Giles asked.

"It's Spike," Xander explained.

"What is it, honey?" Buffy asked, rushing to his side. "Are you sick?"

"That smell," he choked.

"I don't smell anything."

"It's him," he said, gesturing at Xander.

Xander looked offended. "I don't smell."

"It's bloody awful." He rubbed the tears from his eyes. "Worst thing I've ever smelled."

"What does it smell like?" Buffy asked.

Spike crinkled his face, trying to equate the odor with something. "Don't know," he said. "Just smells bad."

"I do not smell," Xander said again.

"It's the repelling spell," Giles explained.

"Huh? You mean I. . . ."

"Stink? Yes, I'm afraid so."

"But, the rest of you don't smell anything?"

"No."

Xander smiled. "So, it works pretty good, then."

"Turn it off!" Spike yelled.

"We can't do that, Spike," Giles said. "It's the only thing keeping the demons off of Xander."

"What am I supposed to do, huh?" he said, waving at Xander. "That stench is enough to make anyone heave their dinner at unsuspecting bystanders."

"You don't breathe, Spike," Giles said, patiently.

"I do when I'm around Buffy," he said.

"Why?" she asked.

The corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. "Your scent, luv. There's nothin' like it." He wrapped an arm around her waist. "Can't get enough of it."

"Oh, Spike, you're so sweet." She leaned in and kissed him, once again forgetting the other occupants of the room.

"Hey!" Xander said, diving across the room. "Keep your evil undead hands off her!" He grabbed Spike and shoved him away.

"Hey," Spike said, angrily, "it's none of your - oh, bloody . . . ." He gagged and stepped back.

Buffy grabbed him. "Put your head between your knees."

"That's for earthquakes," Spike gasped.

"It's all-purpose," Buffy explained, pushing firmly on his back and bending him in half.

Spike tried to stand up again, but quickly doubled over. "Soddin' hell." He started choking.

"Xander," Buffy said, "go over there."

"What?" he asked in disbelief.

"Go over . . . there," she said, waving him away.

Xander looked at her then at Anya in disgust, then moved to the other side of the room.

Spike straightened.

"Better, honey?" Buffy asked.

"I'm okay."

"Just don't breathe anymore, okay?"

"Gotta' breathe if I wanna' talk, luv."

Xander grinned. "Yet another benefit - silent Spike."

Buffy glared at him. "Just concentrate, okay?" she told Spike. "Breathe through your mouth if you want to say anything."

Spike nodded, clearly not wanting to test it again so soon.

Giles cleared his throat loudly. "Perhaps we could get back to the matter at hand?"

 

  
Riley nodded sympathetically, wondering just how much alcohol Willow could stand before she passed out.

"And Anya," she said in disgust. "She so possessive."

"Who's Anya?"

"I mean, did she know Xander in kindergarten? Was she there for cowboys and Indians? Cops and robbers? Or Cannibal Barbie safari?"

"Cannibal -?"

"Or when Xander's GI Joe turned into a maniac killer?" She smirked. "I don't think so." She took another drink of her beer and mumbled, "Miss Penelope went first, then Captain Kangaroo. . . ."

"Really?"

"Malibu Barbie was next - lost her head and other appendages. . . ."

"That's tough," Riley said, taking another drink of his beer. He was regretting his outing to the Bronze. Willow wasn't in a mood to be helped. She wanted to be maudlin and no amount of consoling was going to stop her.

"Ken and Bionic Woman had to hunt him down," she said.

"Good team," Riley said, nodding in understanding. "Brawn and good looks."

"He jumped off the slipper slide at the park. . . ."

"Ken?"

"GI Joe."

Riley nodded, glancing around the room for any of Willow's friends. Maybe they could help him out. "Lots of maniac killers chose suicide once they're cornered atop tall structures," he replied, absently.

"Billy Benton ran over him with his bike. Broke his leg off."

Riley looked appalled. "Billy?"

"GI Joe."

"Well, he had it coming."

"Those were good days," she said, sadly. "I miss them."

Riley tried to look understanding, but Willow was staring at nothing and missed it.

"Why can't we just go back to the way it was?" she asked, giving him a disconsolate look.

"Playing with Barbie dolls?"

"Being together."

"Oh."

Riley nodded again. It seemed to be all he was capable of. He was beginning to think his days as a moonlighting social counselor were numbered.

Willow finished off her fourth beer and clanked the bottle on the table. "Buffy and I don't even see Xander anymore." She glanced at Riley. "Is that fair?"

"Maybe you've had enough," Riley suggested, taking the bottle from her.

 

  
Giles had worked out a safe passage of travel and he was pacing it determinedly.

"I don't want to get married at night," Buffy pouted. "Weddings are supposed to be cheery and sunlighty."

Spike groaned and gazed at the ceiling.

"Will you stop doing that?" Buffy said, annoyed.

"We can't have a daytime wedding," Spike said, fixing her with a steady gaze. "Unless you're going to bring your Hoover vacuum along, pet, I don't see me getting home in one piece."

Buffy frowned at him. "I already said we wouldn't have it outdoors."

"Please," Giles said. "This is not remotely helpful."

"This is important to me, Giles -."

"Buffy," he said, turning toward her voice, "we have to cancel this spell. The only way we can do that, it seems, is to find Willow."

"I told you, we couldn't find her," Buffy said, and dropped onto the couch.

"Yes, well, that was an hour ago." Giles felt his way around the furniture and sat in the armchair. He leaned over and held his head in his hands. "She may be back at her dorm by now," he mumbled, tiredly.

Buffy looked at Giles, feeling bad for his situation. "Okay," she said, jumping to her feet. "Spike and I'll go check." She leaned over and patted Giles' shoulder. "It'll be okay. You'll see."

Giles looked up and gazed sightlessly at her. He put a hand over hers. "I know, Buffy," he said, reassured by her new attitude.

Buffy and Spike moved to the door. "Maybe we should let your mum decide," Spike said, holding the door open for her.

Buffy squealed. "I haven't told mom yet!" She leaned back into the apartment. "Giles, we have to stop by my house first and tell my mom I'm getting married! We won't be long!"

The door slammed shut.

Xander and Anya stared at each other, mutually stunned.

"That is bloody well it," Giles said, calmly. He stood.

"Giles?"

"We're going to find Willow," he said. "Xander, you'll have to drive."

 

  
Buffy and Spike sat in the living room of her mother's house. Her mother was staring at the two of them, astonished.

"Um, say something, mom," Buffy said, uneasily.

"I don't know what to say, Buffy," Joyce replied. "This is very sudden."

Spike gave her his charming smile. "It's sudden for us, too."

Joyce stared at him. She turned her attention back to Buffy. "Have you really thought this through, Buffy?"

"What's to think about?" She squeezed Spike's hand. "I love Spike and he loves me."

Her mother studied the two for another minute. "Can I talk to you alone, Buffy?" she asked, standing.

"You can say anything in front of Spike, mom."

"I really don't think -."

Spike interrupted. "It's okay, Joyce. If you want to make the point that I'm a soulless vampire, go ahead. I understand."

Joyce looked at him, disturbed. This wasn't the Spike that had sat at her table a year ago, sobbing about Drusilla leaving him. He seemed happy. She didn't know Spike well at all, but that wasn't an emotion she would have equated to him.

Buffy leaned toward Spike and whispered in his ear. "Maybe we should get back to Giles."

"Buffy, you don't have to whisper around me," her mother said.

"Oh, sorry. It's just . . . well, Giles needs us right now."

"You and . . . Spike?"

"Yeah."

 

  
Xander spotted Willow immediately. She was walking with Riley, heading for her dorm. Riley was practically carrying her.

"Wil!" Xander shouted. He pulled the car over, bumping the curb as he did so.

"Xander, please," Giles said, head resting in his hand and his elbow on the window, "take it easy."

"Sorry."

Anya and Xander jumped out and stopped Riley and Willow.

"Hey, Xander," Riley said. He glanced at Willow. "She's just a little . . . um . . . drunk."

"Oh, that's just great," Anya said. "How can she reverse this spell if -?"

"Ahn, hon," Xander interrupted, "Riley probably has things to do."

"Not really," he said. There was definitely something peculiar about Buffy's friends, but he couldn't quite finger it.

"Anyway, he doesn't want to hear our problems."

"I don't mind," Riley said, looking from one to the other. Maybe if he got to know her friends he'd have a better shot with Buffy.

"Xander," Giles called from the car. "Time is slipping irrecoverably into the past."

"Yeah, okay." Together, Xander and Riley manhandled Willow into the backseat of Giles' car.

"Um . . . how's Buffy?" Riley asked, shutting the door behind Anya.

Xander made his way around to the driver's side. "What? Oh, she's fine." He opened the door and slid in behind the wheel. "Really good. Nothing bad going on with her. Everything's just, really . . . fine."

Riley smiled, uncertainly. Definitely odd friends.

"Okay, so . . . I'll see you around, then," Xander said. "Probably Buffy will see you . . . you know . . . when she's feeling better."

"She's sick?" Riley asked, concerned.

"Huh?" Xander looked worried. "No, she's fine. Just a little tired with . . . uh . . . all the . . . um . . . you know. . . ."

"Xander," Giles said, sighing. "Stop while you still can."

"Right. Gotta' go," he told Riley. "I'll see you."

He started the car and eased away from the curb.

"Okay, I'll, uh, see you around . . . I guess," Riley said, waving casually.

Xander pulled back into traffic and Giles said, "Go to Buffy's. She's probably still there."

"Goin' to Buffy's?" Willow said, airily.

Giles turned to face her. "Willow, can you understand me?"

"Not talkin' Latin, Giles," she said, reasonably. She frowned. "Are you? Can't really tell." She looked at Giles again. "Do I speak Latin, Giles?"

"No . . . well, maybe . . . I don't think so." He shook his head. "Look, Willow, you've done a spell - a do-your-will spell and it's -."

She snorted and waved a hand at him. "That didn't work."

"Yes, it did."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Willow!" Giles stopped, abruptly and turned partially in his seat. He gazed sightlessly at the interior of the car, taking a few calming breaths.

"You okay, Giles?" Xander asked, giving him a sideways glance.

Giles rubbed his eyes, nodded, then turned back to Willow. "I need you to concentrate, Willow."

"Okey-dokey."

"Your spell has made me blind and -."

"You're blind?" She waved a hand in front of his eyes.

"Yes, and Xander has been turned into a demon magnet."

She snorted and glanced at Anya. "We already knew that, Giles."

Anya glowered at her and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't think you have any right to malign my genealogy after what you've done."

"Me?" Willow turned sideways to face Anya. "You're the one clinging to Xander like a demented rodent."

"What!"

"Wil -," Xander said.

Anya sputtered. "A rodent! And what's my clinging got to do with your dysfunctional spell-casting? And, I do not cling!"

"Oh, please, you hardly know him -."

"That's enough," Giles said, firmly. "We have to get serious about this, especially since Buffy can't help us."

"What's with Buffy?" Willow asked.

"She and Spike are engaged," Anya answered.

"What?"

"They're getting married."

Xander rolled his eyes and shook his head. He gripped the steering wheel tighter. Why couldn't she have wished for a car or a million dollars? Or, for Spike to be a dusty memory? Or, better still, dusty and not remembered?

"That's ridiculous," Willow said. She peered at Anya, clearly not seeing well. "It's my nose, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

She pouted and tears pooled in her eyes. "Oz said I had a cute nose. . . ."

"You think he left you because of your nose?" Anya asked, puzzled.

"It's shaped funny, isn't it?" she asked, tugging on it.

Anya studied her. "I don't think so. It looks normal to me." She fingered her own nose. "Mine is kind of crooked, though. I think it's because -."

"Ahn!" Xander said. "Focus!"

"Oh . . . um. . . ." She turned to Willow. "Buffy and Spike are over at Buffy's house, planning their wedding."

Willow giggled.

"It's not funny, Willow," Giles said. He sighed. The night was shaping up to be just shy of an apocalypse.

"He's right, Wil," Xander said. "You haven't seen them together." He shuddered at the memory.

Willow frowned and glanced around the car.

Anya nodded. "They're kissing and touching and . . . and . . . it's actually kind of sweet. . . ."

"Ahn!"

"Well, it is. They look cute together."

"No, they don't!" Xander said, gesturing at her reflection in the rearview mirror. "It's bad. It's unnatural." He shook his head. "It's like Wilma leaving Fred for the Big Gazoo."

"The big what?"

"Except there was no Fred . . . unless you count Riley . . . but, they aren't dating . . . or, are they?"

"I don't know." Anya looked confused. "Is Buffy Wilma?"

Willow said, "I should be Wilma." She smirked and glanced at herself in the mirror. "Hello? Red hair," she said, pointing at her head.

"But, you don't act like Wilma," Anya said, reasonably.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Wilma was very responsible. She took care of Fred and paid the bills and made dinner for him every night."

Willow's jaw dropped open. "Are you saying I'm not responsible?"

Anya pursed her lips and looked out the window.

"Giles!" Willow said. "Tell her." She grabbed his shoulder. "I'm not - I would make dinner for Fred."

Anya scoffed. "He'd leave you the first time you didn't have supper ready because you were too busy turning Betty into a rat. I heard about that, you know."

"What? That wasn't me." She pulled on Giles' shoulder. "Giles, tell her. I wouldn't turn Betty into a rat."

Giles closed his eyes. He had to think of something. Willow was clearly in no state to reverse her spell. She also was under the delusion that it hadn't worked. If she couldn't fix this, he might have to do it, which would entail hours of research - something he wasn't in the mood for, nor capable of at the moment. Further grim thoughts were interrupted by Anya saying,

"You obviously can't control your magical abilities."

"You think Fred would leave me because Oz did, don't you?" she said, angrily.

"Anya, please," Giles said, wearily.

Anya looked about to grumble, but decided against it. "Well," she mumbled, "Fred probably wouldn't leave you."

Willow smiled, easily appeased in the grip of her alcoholic stupor.

"He'd probably descend into a complacent state of ignorance and resignation and spend his nights playing poker with Barney."

Willow frowned, trying to concentrate. "I don't think Fred and Barney gamble. . . ."

"No, no!" Xander said, suddenly, snapping his fingers. "It's like Nell dropping Dudley Do-Right for Snidely Whiplash!"

"So, now Buffy is Nell?" Anya asked.

Giles sighed and closed his eyes. He hoped they were nearing Buffy's house. The incessant arguing was wearing him down and not being able to tell where they were made the trip even more interminable.

"Yeah," Xander said, "you remember -."

"I liked Snidely," Willow said. "I think he was just misunderstood."

"He was evil!" Xander said. "Robbing the bank every week, tying women to railroad tracks -."

"That does sound evil," Anya said.

"Exactly the kind of thing Spike would do."

"He only did it because he couldn't have the woman he loved," Willow said, sadly.

"Spike?"

"Snidely."

"Snidely loved Nell?"

"Yes."

Xander twisted in his seat as much as he could to look at Willow. "Did we watch the same cartoon when we were little, Wil? 'Cause, I never saw the sparks there."

Anya frowned and turned to Willow. "Are you saying Spike loves Buffy?"

"Um . . . I don't know. What were we talking about?" Willow asked, holding her head.

"Spike and Buffy are getting married," Anya explained, patiently.

"Yeah," Xander said, "and Buffy's mom is probably having a major wiggins right about now."

Willow snorted and waved the idea away. "Are you kidding? Her mom think's Spike's adorable." She leaned against the door and closed her eyes. "She'll be thrilled."

 

  
"Oh, Buffy, I've been so worried that you wouldn't find anyone, what with all the killing every night," Joyce said, setting a serving tray on the coffee table. She grabbed Spike's hand and squeezed it affectionately.

Spike smiled and leaned forward. "Here, let me do that, Joyce," he said, taking the teapot from her.

"Thank you, Spike." She sat back and shared a look of joy with Buffy. "So, have you picked your colors yet?"

 

  
"Hey, demons in the road!" Xander said. He swerved violently, then settled back on his side of the road.

"What are they doing just standing there?" Anya asked, looking out the back window.

"Auditioning for Road Kill: The Movie," Xander said.

"They're throwing things at us."

"What?" Giles said.

Something hard hit the back of the car.

"What kind of a tactic is that!" Xander yelled. "Standing in the street and hurling objects?"

A rock cracked the back window and Anya screamed.

"Xander," Giles, said, disturbed, "what's going on?"

"Not sure, Giles, but I don't think that demon repelling spell is working."

More demons occupied the street up ahead and Xander made a sharp right turn. They found themselves on a narrow street with demons rushing to line up on either side of them.

They immediately started chucking rocks at them.

"Are we in the Gauntlet now?" Xander said, incredulously. "Because, Clint Eastwood was a little more prepared than we are." He swerved again and was forced onto the sidewalk.

More demons scurried out of the way, doing their best to hit the car with the rocks they had.

"Who's driving this car?" Willow mumbled.

Twenty minutes later they arrived at Buffy's house. Giles' car was nearly demolished.

They all clambered out of the vehicle. Xander, a hand on Giles' arm, studied the car dispassionately. "A dab of paint and a whole new car ought to fix it up nicely."

"Let's just get inside," Giles said, testily.

Inside, they dropped Willow on the sofa and explained the events of the last thirty minutes.

"So, they're like long distance killers now?" Buffy said.

"Apparently."

"Why?"

Giles sighed. "Buffy, try to concentrate. Please. It's the demon repellent spell we put on Xander. The smell is obviously too much for their heightened senses."

"Oh."

"They're probably hallucinating by now," Spike said, acidly.

"Thank you, Spike," Giles said. "We know it's bad."

"It's bloody rank."

"Yes, thank you," Giles said, impatiently. "Can we have coffee for Willow, please, Joyce?"

"Of course." She headed for the kitchen. "Buffy, you can help me."

"Okay," Buffy said, brightly.

"Buffy. . . ." Giles started, but realized it was useless.

"Spike wants everything blood-red," Buffy said, unhappily to her mother. "I can't wear red to my wedding."

"Maybe you can compromise," Joyce replied. "You could have dark red roses all around the church. . . ."

"Spike doesn't want to get married in a church."

Joyce looked stunned, then resolved. "I'll talk to him. . . ."

Giles lowered his head in resignation and rubbed the back of his neck.

Xander came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "So, Giles, is this like your worst nightmare?"

Giles took a deep breath. "I really don't see how things can get any worse."

"Here." Spike grabbed Giles' hand and put a cup in it. "Mum makes a really good cup of tea, Rupes." He slapped Giles lightly on the shoulder. "Careful, it's hot."

 

  
An hour later Giles was sitting in a chair, a hot towel on his eyes. Willow was lying on the sofa, an ice pack on her forehead, and moaning occasionally.

Spike stood next to Giles, looking concerned. "Want some more tea, Rupert?"

"No, thank you, Spike."

"Aspirin?"

"No, thank you."

Spike moved to the end of the couch. He sat, gently bending Willow's legs out of the way, and said, "No worries, Rupes, we'll get you fixed up in no time."

"Spike, please stop being sociable. I can't manage that at the moment."

Xander emerged from the kitchen with another cup of coffee. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

"They're picking out china in there," he said, disgusted. "I don't know how much more of this wedding planning I can take."

Spike smirked. "Tell me about it. She wants me to dress up like some kind of poofy nancy boy."

"Yeah, I heard about the Mr. Knightly-Liberace number. I don't know who this Knightly guy is, but it sounds bad."

"It's Jane Austen," Willow mumbled.

Spike snorted and shook his head. "I don't understand this fascination you women have with those poofy books."

"They're actually very humorous stories," Giles said, lifting his head and letting the towel drop into his hands. He began fingering the wet cloth absently.

"I think they're romantic," Willow said.

Xander and Spike exchanged a look of incomprehension.

"Yeah, well," Spike said, "those books are misleading. Life isn't like that."

Willow lifted her head, offended. "How would you know if you never even read them?"

"I read 'em," Spike said, casually. "Before I was turned."

"You read Jane Austen?" Giles said, astonished.

Spike shrugged. "We didn't have TV back then, you know. We read a lot." He turned back to Willow. "And, believe me, luv, it wasn't like those books. Nobody watchin' out for all the good people, makin' sure they have a happy ending."

"Yeah," Xander said, gesturing, "look at Spike."

Spike glowered at him.

Giles cleared his throat. "Willow, if you're feeling . . . lucid, perhaps you'd like to remove your spell?"

Xander sat beside Willow and handed her a cup of coffee. "Here."

"Wow," Willow murmured.

"It's just coffee," Xander said.

Willow looked around, alarmed. "Xander?"

"Yeah?" he said, worriedly.

"Where are you?"

"Right here."

A worried look crossed Giles' face. "Willow, what's wrong?"

"Well," she said, warily, "my coffee cup is floating an inch from my nose and I'm hearing Xander."

Xander jumped up. "You can't see me!"

"Willow," Giles said, calmly. "You don't see Xander?"

"No."

"You see us, though, don't you, luv?" Spike asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay, this is bad," Xander said, and started pacing.

"Willow, did you wish you couldn't see Xander?" Giles asked.

"No! Why would I do that?" She sat up and eased her legs over the side of the couch. "Besides, I told you my spell didn't work."

"Willow, you're being irrational. Can't you see the effects of your spell?"

"I can see that you're trying to blame it on me," she said, frowning. "Something weird is going on, but my spell didn't work. I can prove it." She glanced around the room. "I will this lamp to grow legs." She touched the lamp beside the sofa.

Spike jumped off the couch and Xander moved next to Giles, who had also gotten to his feet.

The lamp remained immobile.

"Willow, what you're doing isn't safe," Giles said. "Please stop."

She didn't listen, but instead jumped to her feet. "I will . . . uh. . . ." She stopped abruptly and stared at the floor. "I will this carpet to fly!"

The carpet remained flat and slightly dusty.

"What's all the shouting?" Anya asked, peeking in from the kitchen.

Giles leaned toward Xander and whispered, "This is really dangerous. I'm not sure how it works, but it could suddenly take effect."

Xander nodded. "Uh . . . Wil, you think maybe you should -."

Willow stopped beside Spike. "I will Spike's hair to be orange!" she said, lightly touching his head.

"Hey!" Spike said, appalled. "Don't touch the hair."

"Ooh . . . you'll . . . what? Bite me?" She scoffed. "So scared."

Spike glared. "Hey, I'm still the big bad," he said, pointing a threatening finger at her shoulder. "I can still. . . ."

"What?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "You're all bark and no bite, Spike."

Spike glowered at her and shifted from one foot to the other. "I can still bite, Red," he said, menacingly.

Willow snorted. "Why don't you try annoying me to death? You have a much better chance."

Anya cast a glance into the kitchen, then moved into the living room. Things were clearly much more interesting with the men.

Giles frowned at her. "This isn't like you, Willow."

"What? Because I'm not the gullible, mousy doormat you're all so comfortable with?"

Spike snorted. "You've got insecurity issues, Red. Don't take 'em out on us."

She turned on Spike. "It's none of your business, Spike. You're not one of us."

"I may not be one of you, but I can still be effected by this whiney, all-about-me mojo you got goin' on," he said, waving a languid hand at her. "And I think I should have a say, that's all."

"Already been effected," Xander said from across the room. "And not in a good way, I might add."

Spike gave him a disdainful look. "Just because you can't accept that me and Buffy -."

"Whiney?" Willow interrupted.

"Willow," Giles said, "this really isn't constructive . You've got to reverse your spell."

She whirled around to face Giles. "Giles, it's not me. Didn't I just prove it?"

"Actually . . . no."

"I'm not the only one that does spells around here, Giles."

"Why are you looking at me?" Anya asked. She looked at Xander and Giles. "I didn't do a spell."

"How do we know that?" Willow asked. "It wasn't so long ago you were wanting my help to do a spell to get your vengeance powers back."

Anya looked uncomfortable. "That was last year." She glanced at Xander. "I learned my lesson," she said, not very convincingly.

Xander frowned at her. "Um . . . okay. On board with the belief here, Ahn. Try taking a firmer tone next time you deny something, though, okay?"

"Oh, that's just like you, Xander," Willow said, angrily, glancing around the room for him. "I've been your best friend since we were kids and you side with the ex-demon," she said, gesturing at Anya.

Xander, offended, said, "Well, maybe it's because you're acting more like vamp Willow right now."

Willow's mouth dropped open again. She stared for half a minute, then turned and marched for the door.

"Uh . . . hey, Wil," Xander called. "You should probably stay here."

"She's leaving?" Giles said, concerned. "Stop her! Xander - Spike!"

Spike, closest, stepped in front of her.

"Can't let you go, Red," he said, easily.

"What're you gonna' do, Spike, TALK me into staying?" she asked.

"Hey, just 'cause you got dumped by wolf-boy, doesn't mean you should take it out on the rest of us."

Willow's face went red and she pushed Spike. He fell against the door.

"Wil!" Xander said. He grabbed her from behind, wrapping both arms around her.

"Let me go!" Willow screamed.

Giles maneuvered to the front door.

"Willow," Giles said, gently. "I'm very sorry for what you've been going through -."

"Oh, Mr. Sensitive wants to talk now," she mumbled.

"Willow, you're not yourself -." An uncomfortable thought occurred to Giles and he took an involuntary step back as the possibility of things turning even blacker hit him. "Willow, did you wish something on yourself?"

She stopped struggling and looked guilty. "What?"

Giles repeated his question, trying to remain patient.

Xander turned Willow free but stayed close in the event he needed to tackle her.

Willow gave Giles a truculent look and remained silent.

"Willow, you're not acting normally."

She became angry again. "Why? Because I'm not willing to be pushed around by the rest of you?" She gestured wildly.

Giles stretched an arm out to her, but she moved back. "Willow," he said, "you've got to calm down."

"I am calm."

"I hardly think ranting can qualify as being calm." Giles took a breath. "Now, I know that you are aware that in the case of a do-thy-will spell the witch who cast it is the only one who can lift it."

She nodded.

"Please, remove your spell," he said, patiently.

She sighed petulantly.

"Please?" Giles persisted. "It can't make any difference if it never worked in the first place, as you claim."

Willow glared for half a minute, then gave in and muttered the reversal spell.

"I still don't see anything," Giles said, glumly, sitting down again.

Willow said, "And I don't see Xander." She stomped back to the sofa and laid down. "I told you it wasn't me."

 

  
"We gotta' do somethin'," the chaos demon said. He was holding a handkerchief over his nose. "I can't take much more."

Willy set two drinks in front of them and said, "You gotta' pay your tab, Carl."

Carl nodded, absently, and sipped his beer, trying to keep the handkerchief in place.

"You chaos demons got it easy. We can't hold our breath at all," the olive-colored demon beside him said, jerking a thumb at his buddy, "or we'll turn different colors!"

The chaos demon snorted. "You're a chameleon, moron. It's what you do."

"To evade predators, yeah, not to escape the stench-that-can't-be-believed."

"So, turn blue or somethin' and stop whining."

Three yellowish, spongy demons approached.

"Get this thing started, Larry," the first growled, "we can't stay conscious much longer."

Larry nodded, then turned to Carl again. "I can't control the color. It depends on the circumstances."

"Do I care about this?" Carl asked, wheezing into his handkerchief.

"You should. Yer girlfriend there is gonna' make me turn green."

"She likes green," Carl said, choking as he took an involuntary breath.

"It's a mating color," he replied, simply.

The chaos demon turned to his girlfriend. "Go out back, Bitsy."

The sponge demon groused, "Tonight, man. We got guys pukin' their guts out in the back room."

"Yeah, okay," Larry said.

"Are you turnin' green?" Carl asked, suspiciously.

"No."

"It smells out there," Bitsy whined.

"Just go," Carl said.

She sighed and stomped outside.

The chameleon demons let out a groan of pleasure and proceeded to turn pink.

Carl gazed warily at them. "What's pink mean?"

"Apprehension with a little unreasoning fear."

Carl raised his eyebrows.

"It's the Fioral demons," he explained, gesturing at the two across the room. "They like to eat our ears."

"That's tough."

"Hello!" sponge demon said, incredulously. "This stink's causin' fatalities, man. We gotta' do somethin'."

"Yeah, okay," Larry said. He raised his voice so everyone in the bar could hear him.

"We need to come up with options to fix this kid."

"Let's lock 'em in an airtight box."

"He's gotta' breathe."

"Why?"

"We can't kill 'em, moron," Carl said. "The Slayer wouldn't like it."

"He could leave town."

". . . I got some money. . . ."

"Maybe we could. . . ."

". . . wrap 'em in a. . . ."

". . . all pitch in. . . ."

". . . spray somethin on 'em. . . ."

". . . a big tarp. . . ."

 

  
Xander stepped into the living room, a look of panic on his face.

"What's with you?" Spike asked.

"Buffy can't see me either."

"What? She saw you earlier."

"Yeah, and now she can't."

Giles stopped his pacing. "Willow must still be wishing things."

"No, I'm not, Giles. Besides, it didn't -."

"I say we gag her and tie her up," Anya said, simply.

Willow glowered at her.

Anya went on. "Clearly, whatever she says is coming true with alarming unpredictability."

"She's right," Giles said.

"What?"

"We're not going to tie you up, Willow." Giles pinched his nose. He was getting a headache.

"Why not?" Anya asked. "Her erratic emotional state and generally indifferent attitude to the rest of us could maim or kill someone. Not to mention destroying the last shreds of friendship with the rest of you."

Willow gawked at her. "Oh, who's the former vengeance demon? Who killed and maimed thousands of people for over a thousand years?"

"Men."

"What?"

"It was just men."

Willow looked at Giles in abhorrence, remembered he couldn't see her, looked briefly for Xander, gave up, and settled her gaze on Spike. He shrugged and sat on the couch.

"I was doing my job," Anya said. "I helped people - women - and you're just wallowing in self-pity and trying to make the rest of us as unhappy as you."

Willow's mouth dropped open again.

"Anya, this really isn't constructive," Giles said. He sounded about one step away from a quiet room and a bottle of scotch.

Willow shook her head in disbelief. "You know, I've had about all I can stand of your I'm-a-former-demon-so-I-don't-have-to-obey-simple-rules-of-etiquette routine."

"Routine?"

"Just how many friends do you have anyway? Besides us?" Willow asked.

"Well. . . ." Anya frowned at the carpet.

"Gee," Willow said. "Surprise there. Maybe you should try being a little less truthful. You really think anyone would miss the queen of candor?"

Buffy and Joyce joined the group.

"Look at this honey," Buffy said, shoving the book onto Spike's lap.

"What's this, luv?"

"Wedding dresses. Mom had a catalog."

Joyce smiled. "I'm optimistic."

Giles sighed loudly and started pacing.

"Are you all right, Rupert?" Joyce asked.

"Not really, no." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Would you like more tea?"

"I don't think it will help."

Willow picked up her ice pack from the coffee table and held it to her head.

"So, you don't like looking at me?" Xander asked. "Is that it?"

Willow rolled her eyes and turned around.

"'Cause, I can wear a paper bag over my head in the future. . . ."

Willow found herself facing the sofa which Spike and Buffy were occupying. They'd forgotten about the wedding dresses already and were snuggling and kissing.

"Stop it!" Willow screamed.

"What's wrong?" Giles asked.

"Just Spike and Buffy," Xander said, bitterly, "reminding us that nothing is so bad that it can't be made worse by a little nausea in the pit of the stomach."

Giles looked annoyed and moved to a chair.

"Are you insane, Buffy?" Willow asked, jamming the ice pack against her forehead harshly.

Buffy frowned. "Why does everyone keep saying that?" She leaned against Spike and he snuggled at her neck.

Willow gasped. "Get away from her!"

Spike glanced up, angry. "Mind your own business, Red."

"Wil," Buffy said, "you're just going to have to accept this. Spike and I are in love." She smiled as Spike rubbed his head against her neck again.

"I can't watch this," Willow said, covering her eyes and turning away.

"I wish I had the option," Giles said, acridly.

Xander moved to the window and peered out. He expected a mob of angry demons wielding torches and pitchforks at any moment. The lawn was empty and the street unnaturally quiet.

Buffy stood and moved around to stand in front of Willow. "Wil, don't be upset."

Willow looked at her, aghast. "Should I be happy that you're marrying a vampire?" She rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you didn't learn your lesson with Angel."

"Hey, does everything have to be about that wanker?"

Buffy gave Spike an irate look, then turned back to Willow. "That was really mean."

"Buffy," she said, trying to make her see reason, "this is wrong."

"Why?"

"Why?" Willow looked stunned. "He's evil and you hate him."

"It's no good, Willow," Giles said. "You can't reason with them. We really need to find out why your reversal spell didn't work."

"Well, how do you think Angel's gonna' take this?" Willow asked, ignoring Giles.

"He'll understand," Buffy said, uncertainly.

"Really? I kinda' think he's not gonna' react the way you expect."

Spike let out an annoyed sound and got to his feet.

Buffy gave him a sulky look. "Don't be upset, sweety. We won't talk about . . . him anymore."

"Oh, really? 'Cause, you always seem to come back to him, don't you?"

"That's not fair."

Willow groaned and smacked herself in the forehead with her ice pack again. "Maybe we should just have a group therapy session."

"You'd be the one to lead it," Spike said.

"Oh, please," she said, waving her ice pack at him. "Who came to town last year whining about Drusilla?"

"Well, at least I'm not servin' up pity pie to all my friends and forcin' it down their throats," Spike said.

Willow's jaw dropped. "Wha - you - that's just. . . ." She clinched her jaw.

"Willow, please stop talking," Giles said. "Everything you say is dangerous."

"I'm not wishing anything, Giles," she replied, glaring murderously at Spike.

"I'm serious, Willow. We don't know how it works. You could do something irreversible. Especially in your current attitude."

She scoffed. "My attitude?"

"We can still tie you up," he said, firmly.

"I think that's a very, very bad idea," Anya said, and proceeded to bite her lower lip.

Willow frowned at her.

"It's a little weird, don't you think?" Xander said, gesturing at the window. "No demons." He turned to look at Giles. "I mean, where are they anyway?"

The phone rang and Joyce answered it.

Giles said, "They can't stand the smell of you, Xander. They're not going to come around."

"That didn't stop 'em before, Giles. It was like Night of the Living Dead out there and now nothing."

"Buffy, it's for you."

Buffy crossed the room and took the phone. "Hello?"

She was silent for a few seconds.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Who is it, Buffy?" Giles asked.

"Hold on," she said, and covered the receiver with her hand. "It's some demon named Carl. He says he wants to talk about the stench-that-can't-be-named and what we're gonna' do about it." She shrugged. "I don't know what they're talking about and I have a reception to plan."

"It's Xander," Giles said, dispassionately.

"I'll handle it," Spike said.

Buffy eagerly handed him the phone. "Hurry up, honey. We have to discuss the invitation list."

Spike smirked and took the phone. "Hello?"

"Willow, come with me," Giles said, abruptly.

She looked worried. "What?"

"We need to get to the bottom of this spell and there's too much going on in here." He turned and made his way slowly across the room.

Willow followed, unhappily.

"Spike says he doesn't have anyone to be his best man," Buffy told her mother.

Joyce looked concerned. "We'll find someone."

"He wants to hire some kind of sponge demon to hold the ring. He says they don't lose things."

Joyce shook her head. "Men."

They returned to the kitchen to confer about the wedding and Anya moved to stand next to Xander.

"Tying her up and gagging her is a really, really . . . BAD idea," she said.

"Huh?" Xander said, absently. He was trying to decipher the phone conversation from what Spike was saying.

Eventually, Spike hung up and sat on the couch. "Got a little problem," he said.

Xander sat, too, and looked worried. "What now?"

"They wanna' negotiate."

"Negotiate?"

"They say the smell is so bad that some of the wankers are goin' insane."

"And why do we care?"

"You don't want Buffy to have to deal with demons that got a few loose bricks." He twirled a finger around near his temple. "Somethin' like this could turn the tide on the Hellmouth."

"What does that mean?"

"How many demons do you think are really a problem out there?" Spike asked, motioning at the window behind them.

"I don't know. All of 'em, I guess."

Spike raised his eyebrows. "You all survive on luck, don't you?"

"Hey -."

"About twenty percent," Spike said. "But, if the other eighty percent go all wonky in the head they'll likely start doin' things they wouldn't normally."

"So, what do we do?"

"They want us to lift the spell."

"Can't do it."

"That's what I told 'em. They said they won't attack you if we lift the smell-spell, but I said they can't control it."

"And?"

"Look," Spike said, "all we gotta' do is stall 'em until Red gets her head on straight and fixes her spell."

Xander sighed and leaned back. "Okay. So now what?"

"They're gonna' call back."

 

  
Willow sat at the dining room table, looking glum, and holding the ice pack to her head.

Giles and Anya sat on either side of her.

"Are you quite certain you did the original spell correctly?"

"Yes," Willow answered, disgusted.

"And the reversal spell?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Anya, do you have any idea why it might not have worked?" Giles asked.

"No," she said, then looked upset.

"None at all? Surely, something -."

"No! I mean - no!"

"Calm down, Anya. Panicking isn't going to help."

"But, I AM panicking, Giles!"

"Well, stop it."

"I don't know anyone who can help us. . . ."

"That's all right. I don't, either."

"But, I . . . I really . . . think . . . there's just not ANYONE WHO CAN FIX THIS!"

"Anya, I'm sure it's not that bad . . . yet."

Willow dropped her ice pack on the table. "I think we should do a spell, Giles. See what's really going on here."

"Willow, I'm quite certain it's your spell."

"Why are you always blaming me, Giles?" she asked, upset. Everyone was turning on her and she couldn't understand why. Riley was the only person she'd had a reasonable conversation with in the last day and he hadn't said much.

"I don't, Willow." Giles shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "You're being extremely contrary."

"No, I'm -."

"What did you wish on yourself?"

Willow glared, not caring that he couldn't see her.

Giles sighed and closed his eyes.

"Well NOBODY can fix this," Anya said, shoving her chair back, "and I'm going to sit here until they show up on their own!"

Giles looked stunned. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere!"

She marched out of the room.

Willow said, "What's with her?"

 

  
"Stop dripping on me," Larry said, wiping sludge from his arm and glancing at the chaos demon's horns. "Gack," he said, making a face. "Doesn't that ever stop?"

"No."

Larry rolled his eyes and turned a sickly shade of blue. "Look, we gotta' come up with plan B if we can't find a spell."

"Like what?" Sponge One asked.

"Like killin' him."

"The Slayer won't like that," Carl said.

"Do we care what the Slayer likes?" Larry asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Well, yeah."

"Look, it's gotta' be done. We can't live like this."

Sponge Two looked annoyed. "Some of us ain't livin'."

"Already?"

He nodded. "I don't wanna' go that way, man. It ain't right."

"It's embarrassing," Sponge Three said, taking another deep breath to hold as long as he could.

Larry looked downcast. Things were getting worse. "I say we draw straws for the duty."

Everyone looked agitated but eventually relented. Before they could proceed a second chameleon demon burst through the door. He bent over, gagging, then took a succession of whooping gasps.

"You okay?" Larry asked, frowning.

The demon nodded but continued to gag, waving his arms up and down.

"Hold your breath already," Larry said, annoyed.

"Can't," he gasped. "There's a bunch of girls out front."

"So, don't look at 'em."

He shook his head. "They're wearin' these really cute, short skirts. All pink and lace -."

"Hey!" Sponge One shouted. "Can you get a grip, man! We - oh man!" He gasped once, then sucked his entire body up to its smallest degree. His eyes bugged out and he stood, immobile and looking slightly pickled.

The other two sponge demons darted panicked looks at him, then did the same.

Larry turned purple.

"Oh, hey, what's that color mean?" another demon asked, worriedly.

"Ahgggh. That smell is worse," another said, burying his head in his armpit.

"You get the book?" Larry asked his compatriot.

The chameleon, panting for much needed decent air, ran to him and thrust a small book into his hands.

Larry flipped through the pages with his friend pointing at the possibilities.

"Okay," Larry said, "we can - will you hold your breath already?"

The chameleon nodded and took a deep breath, instantly turning green.

"Focus!" Larry said.

He nodded again and managed to turn pink.

Larry looked through the book, then sighed in relief. "I was worried this would be in Romanian or somethin'."

"Yeah, like that fear spell we did that time."

Larry snorted. "That worked real well."

"Yeah, but Greek? Man, that was tough goin'."

Larry agreed and continued to peruse the book. "This one takes awhile," he said.

"It's mostly preparation. Nothin' we can't do."

Larry nodded in agreement. "Or this one."

"No, you need a full moon for that one. We can't wait that long." He leaned over Larry's shoulder and flipped a few pages. "There's this sorta' turnin' back time spell. . . ."

"No time spells," Carl said, firmly.

The chameleon frowned and turned another page. "Well, there's this bubble spell."

"A bubble?" Larry asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. Around the kid. Nothin' gets in and more importantly, nothin' gets out."

"He couldn't breathe," Carl said, dispassionately.

The chameleon rolled his eyes. "Back to that."

"It's kinda' important," Carl said.

Larry nodded and looked some more. "Why do these spells need so many fish?"

Sponge One let out a noisy whoosh of air and his eyes snapped back into his head. "Will you morons call Spike already!" He sucked himself up again and stood, swaying.

 

  
A puzzled look crossed Spike's face as he listened to the demon on the other end of the line. "Somethin' to cover up the smell?" He looked at Xander.

"Can they do that?" Xander asked.

Spike shrugged. "They're wankers. It probably won't work anyway."

Xander frowned, thinking. "So, that'd be like leaving the smell-spell there, but just blocking it?"

"I guess," Spike said.

"But, the smell is what's repelling them."

Spike frowned. "Yeah." He spoke into the phone again. "You gotta' find something to knock out the demon magnet thing or it's not gonna' work."

Xander, back to pacing the living room, moaned in annoyance and ran a hand through his hair.

Spike waited.

Xander raised his eyebrows at him.

Spike shrugged. "They're lookin' up somethin'."

Xander shook his head.

Spike listened for a minute. "Uh -huh . . . yeah . . . don't know. Hold on." He looked at Xander. "You have any fillings?"

"Wha -? Why -?" He groaned in surrender. "Yes. Two."

"Yeah, two," Spike said. He waited, then, "They say that's okay. More than two could be bad, though."

"What? Bad how?"

"What's that?" Spike said into the phone. "Okay." He hung up.

Xander stared at him, waiting.

"They found some kinda' suppression spell."

"What does that mean?"

"Don't know. We should probably ask Rupert," he said, thumbing toward the dining room.

 

  
Giles said, "Try again."

Willow was stomping around the room when Spike and Xander entered. She rolled her eyes and said the words to the spell.

"A little less sarcasm might help," Giles said, acidly.

"Giles," Xander said, urgently. "What's a suppression spell?"

"What? Xander, I don't have time for this."

"It's kinda' important, Giles."

Giles sighed. "It's rather self-explanatory, I would think," he said, gesturing. "A dictionary would do you and Spike no end of good. Buffy may have one. It'll be the dusty tome under her bed, no doubt."

"Hey, don't be pissy with us, Rupes," Spike said. "None of this is our fault, you know," he said, looking pointedly at Willow.

"You're right, Spike," Giles said. "I'm sorry, it's just . . . ." He reconsidered. "And, now I'm apologizing to Spike," he said in disgust.

Willow stopped her pacing and glared at Spike. "This is not my fault."

"Oh, really? You know anyone else with a whiney, self-inflicted problem that also happens to be able to cast spells?"

"Self-inflicted!"

Spike smirked. "Well, you're kinda' your own problem, Red. I mean, if you coulda' held wolf-boy's interest maybe he wouldn't have left."

Xander's jaw dropped open.

Willow was rapidly turning purple. "Wha -? I . . . Giles!"

"Or maybe you were too wild for the boy."

"Spike. . . ." Giles warned.

"You're supposed to be Buffy's maid of honor," Spike continued, "but I don't think you qualify." He waved a hand in the air absently. "I mean, they're supposed to be sweet and pure. . . ."

"Wha - I don't -." She gaped at him in rage. "You just . . . ." She gave up and hurled her ice pack at him. Xander, however, was between them and the pack hit him in the side of the head.

"Hey, standing right here!" Xander yelled, catching the ice pack as it dropped from his head. "Oh, I forgot, I'm too irritating to look at. Why don't I go stand in a corner until you miss me?"

Willow stood, glaring at Spike and breathing hard.

Spike just looked bored. He glanced at Giles. "I need some smokes, Rupes. Mind if I go out?"

"Yes, I do mind," he said. "But, I do think it would be best if you left the room."

Spike shrugged and turned to go.

Willow ground out, "I need some Tylenol."

Spike smirked. "It's not that time of month, too, is it? 'Cause that's all we need."

"Spike, get out," Giles said.

Willow stared at Spike's retreating back, then to Giles. "I'm . . . I'm gonna' turn him into . . . into . . . something really . . . BAD . . . and . . . and . . . ugly. . . ."

"Willow, calm down," Giles said. "Go get your aspirin."

She considered her options for half a minute, then stormed out of the room.

"And stay away from Spike!" Giles called after her.

The room was quiet for nearly a minute, then Giles heard a chair move.

"Who is that?"

Xander sighed in annoyance. "Just me, the invisible, reeking, jobless loser. Want me to go sit in the closet until you want me?"

Giles shook his head, exasperated. He'd done a few disagreeable things in his life and this apparently was some sort of retribution.

"I need a book," Giles said, abruptly.

"Huh?" Xander looked up.

"It's at my apartment. Can you go get it, please?"

"Oh, sure," Xander said. "Got nothin' better to do, and it's not like anyone will miss me."

"Xander, this isn't about you."

He sighed and nodded. "What's the book?"

"It's called the 'Watcher's Supplementary Guide.' It's on the shelf."

"Okay." He turned to go and hesitated. He looked back at Giles. "You think Wil's gonna' be able to fix her spell?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure what she wished for herself, but it's clearly making her extremely contrary."

"So, we've gotta' make her see reason, then?"

"I don't know if that's possible in her current state."

"Whatever we decide we gotta' keep Spike away from her. He's not helping."

"No," Giles agreed. "Perhaps you should take him with you. He seems to be going out of his way to annoy her."

Xander nodded, then looked stunned. "Oh, man. . . ."

"What is it?"

"Wil. She said somethin' about Spike annoying her to death. Do you think. . .?"

Giles took a deep breath. "Yes, I think." He rubbed his forehead. "I thought Spike was being more irritating than usual. We've got to keep them apart. Spike annoying her beyond endurance is only going to make her more contentious."

"Great," Xander said, squeezing his eyes shut. "Look, Giles, about this demon repelling thing. . . ."

"Xander, I really don't have time for this. At the rate we're proceeding, Spike and Buffy will be on their honeymoon before we reverse this spell."

"We could tie them up." He considered it. "Of course, we'd have to ambush Buffy again. Use something a little tougher than rope. . . ."

"Xander, I'm not certain how much more of this I can take, so please go get the book."

"Leaving now."


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy insisted on going with Xander and Spike, hoping to get a look at the bridal dresses in the shops downtown on the way. They were walking arm in arm on the sidewalk with Xander trailing behind and flipping through Giles' book. He wasn't having much trouble reading as the half moon and the occasional street lamp gave him all the illumination he needed.

"We could have it at the Bronze," Spike said, "where we first met."

Buffy looked pleased and surprised at the same time. "Spike, that is so thoughtful."

She leaned up and kissed him.

"Hey, this thing has a troubleshooting guide," Xander said, in astonishment.

"What?" Buffy asked, pulling away from Spike.

Xander repeated himself.

"Really?" Buffy asked, turning to Xander. She frowned when she could only see the book hovering. "Not seeing you is so giving me a wiggins, Xander," she said.

"Yeah, well, at least you're still acknowledging my presence," he mumbled.

She moved to stand next to him and hesitantly reached for his shoulder. She found it and leaned in to look at the book. "So, does it say anything about distance runners? 'Cause I had this vamp last week that -."

"Buff," Xander said, interrupting, "this is a magic troubleshooting guide. It's not for slayers."

She scowled in disappointment.

"You don't need none o' that, luv," Spike said, wrapping an arm around her waist. "You're the best slayer there's ever been."

She looked at him with wide, eager eyes. "Really?"

He shrugged. "Why do you think I could never beat you?"

She smiled and poked him playfully. "Well, maybe deep down you didn't really want to."

He beamed and winked at her. "You could be right, pet." He leaned down and whispered into her ear. "I always did think of you as MY slayer. I'd never let anyone hurt you, pet."

Tears streamed from her eyes. "That is so . . . so. . . ." She gave up and hugged him.

"Sappy?" Xander offered.

"Hey," Spike said, pulling away from Buffy, "you and demon girl give the rest of us nightmares every time she opens her mouth to share your frolics."

"Frolics? I never thought I'd hear the big bad use the word frolic."

"Yeah, well, I think frolic when I think of you."

"Don't fight," Buffy said, pouting. "I hate it when you two fight."

Spike squeezed her waist. "Okay, pet. No more fighting."

Buffy stared at the space just above the floating book.

Xander sighed. "Okay, okay. No fighting."

Buffy smiled and turned, pulling Spike along with her. "Let's get back, then. Everyone's probably worried."

 

  
"Okay," Larry said. "It's time to draw straws."

"Why do we gotta' do that?" Carl asked.

"It's a contingency plan." He looked around. "Hey, sponge head - you got those straws?"

"That ain't my name."

"Well, it's not like you told us," Larry said, perturbed.

"My name's none of your business."

Larry looked uninterested. "Fine. You have the straws or what?"

The sponge demon patted himself briefly, then looked at his companion.

The second sponge demon frowned and began patting himself.

"I thought you guys weren't supposed to lose things?" Carl said, disgusted.

All three sponge demons started searching themselves in earnest, pressing bits of their bodies, producing various objects which oozed out their pores.

"Oh, now that's disgusting," a demon said.

"We don't lose things," Sponge one replied, hotly. "Just sometimes . . . misplace 'em."

"Hey," Sponge Three said, "my watch!" He jerked it free from his side and proceeded to wipe it off.

Larry rolled his eyes. "We don't got all night."

"Hey! My ham and cheese!" Sponge Two said, pulling the sandwich from his stomach. "Thought I'd lost that. . . ."

"I'm gonna' be sick," Carl said.

Larry stared at him, stunned. "Like that sludge you got drippin' all over everything isn't revolting?"

 

  
"Hey," Xander said, "this thing has a number for technical support."

They were on Buffy's street but she and Spike were having trouble moving as they were wrapped around each other, laughing and kissing.

Xander looked up. "Can you stop that!"

Spike pulled away from Buffy long enough to give Xander an irritated look. "What is it gonna' take for you and the others to accept that me and Buffy are gettin' married?"

"Frosty the snowman taking a job as the doorman in hell," Xander replied.

Buffy pouted. "You two said you'd stop fighting."

"He started it," Spike said.

She pursed her lips and decided to change the subject. "So, Xand, is this technical support overseas? At the Watcher headquarters maybe?"

He glanced at the page again. "Uh . . . looks like." He read some more.

"I wonder if we can get Giles to call?" Buffy said, then looked horrified. "What if they don't take his call?"

"Why wouldn't they, luv?"

"He's not a watcher anymore," she said, angrily. "They fired him because of me."

"Wankers."

"Well, if we do get him to call, we gotta' have some facts ready," Xander said, looking up and waving the book at them.

"Like what?" Buffy asked.

Xander read from the book. "'If calling technical support, be prepared to answer the following questions:'"

"How hard can they be?" Buffy asked, snuggling closer to Spike.

"'Number 1: Is your spell likely to endanger the public?'" Xander glanced up. "That's probably a given if you're calling technical support, don't you think?"

Buffy and Spike didn't answer as they'd returned to their whispering and kissing.

Xander rolled his eyes, but went back to the book. "'Number 2: Has the National Guard been called? If not, will they be needed eventually?'" He stopped, waiting for the comment that seemed to require. When none was forthcoming, he went on. "'Number 3: Has anyone/thing gone missing? Will anyone notice?'" Xander tilted his head, considering.

Spike stopped and lifted his head to survey the neighborhood. Buffy frowned and looked also.

Xander continued reading. "Number 4: Have you altered your/our reality? Does anyone else know? Are they upset/angry about it?'" He stopped. "How would you know?" He looked around. "Hey, what's goin' on?"

"Somethin's out there," Spike said.

"Are you sure, sweety?" Buffy asked.

"I can feel it."

He whirled around and stared.

Across the street several demons were hiding in the shadows of a house. Spike examined the other houses and noticed more skulkers.

"What are they doing?" Buffy asked.

"Spying on me," Xander answered.

"They're not attacking."

"Smell's too much for 'em," Spike said. "Go on, you wankers!" He waved an arm at them. "Nothin' to eat here!"

"They eat people?" Xander said, appalled.

Spike shrugged. "Some of 'em do. Can't tell which ones these are."

"Oh, great. I thought being stoned to death was a bad way to go and now you're telling me I might end up in someone's stew?"

"Relax," Spike said. "You stink so bad, they'd never be able to choke you down."

"Well, thanks, Spike. I can always count on you to show me the silver lining."

"No problem."

They started walking again, keeping a wary eye out for any demons that wanted to put an end to their misery by hurling something dangerous their way.

"So, Xand," Buffy said, trying to lighten the mood. "What else does the book say?"

"Huh? Oh . . . uh. . . ." He hesitantly brought the book up again. "Okay, 'Number 5: Have you maimed/killed anyone? Do their relatives know. . . ?'"

 

  
"Why don't you go find Anya?" Giles suggested. "We could use her help."

"You can't be serious, Giles." Willow gawked at him. "How can she possibly help?"

"Willow, you're being very irrational."

"Am not."

Giles sighed, and was about to retort when Joyce entered with a tray.

"I thought you'd like some more coffee," she said, setting it on the table.

"Uh . . . thank you," Giles said.

She proceeded to pour coffee for each of them.

"Do you think Buffy will want to stay in Sunnydale after she's married, Rupert?" she asked. "After all, Spike has been all over the world. . . ."

Giles groaned and closed his eyes. He didn't get more than two minutes of relaxation before the opening of the front door alerted him to Xander's return, hopefully bearing the deliverance they needed.

"Giles!" Xander called, stepping into the dining room. "Got your book."

"Good. Excellent," Giles said. "Bring it in here."

Giles rested his elbow on the table. He put his head in his hand and prepared himself to be read to. He particularly hated that, especially when Xander would be the one doing the reading. He mispronounced unfamiliar words with a wanton abandon that left Giles with the relentless feeling that his brain was being squeezed by a giant nutcracker.

Xander stood and flipped through the book. "So, I guess you'll be wanting the handy troubleshooting guide in the back, then?"

"If you please."

"How come we haven't used this before?"

"I haven't really had cause before now. I ordered it after your disastrous love potion spell."

Xander looked sheepish but didn't reply. He found the page he wanted. "They have a technical support hotline. Did you know that?"

"We are not calling technical support," Giles said, firmly.

Xander went on, not hearing. "We were reading it on the way over here." He flipped to the page he wanted. "I think we can answer a shaky no to most of these, but number 6 might be a problem."

"Xander. . . ."

He read, "'Are you in immediate danger? Will you be abandoning your current location soon?'"

Giles looked irritated. "I said we're not -."

"You think we're in danger?" Joyce asked, worriedly.

"Well, with the demons doing the peasants and pitchforks routine out there, anything could happen." He looked at the book. "And number 7?" He shook his head. "'Are you hallucinating/ hearing voices? What do you see/hear? Are they trying to get you to do something you don't want to do? Please be sure it isn't actually someone you know.'" He looked at Giles. "If we're gonna' be doing magic around here, maybe we should look into some kind of group insurance plan."

"That might be a good idea," Joyce said.

"But who would do it?" Buffy asked.

"The Watcher Council," Xander said.

"They don't even insure me," Buffy said, "and I'm the Slayer."

"I told you they were a bunch of wankers," Spike said.

"Well, maybe we could talk to someone when we call the hotline."

Giles had had enough. He stood up and said loudly, "We are NOT calling technical support."

Everyone in the room stopped talking. Giles took a few calming breaths. "Now, Xander, if you please. Turn to the beginning and start reading."

Buffy, Spike and Joyce left, wisely surmising that they wouldn't be needed.

Willow sat across from Giles, both elbows on the table and her chin resting on her knuckles. A lethargic _expression soured her appearance.

Xander leaned against a wall, and read aloud. "'For questions 1 through 8, try general reversal spell. See attached copy.'" He frowned and shook the book, trying to dislodge any loose papers. "It's not here," he said.

Giles sighed. "I know that. It's in my desk."

"Should I go get it?"

"No. I know the spell by heart. It's not helpful in this instance."

Xander nodded, forgetting that Giles couldn't see him, and continued reading. "'Number 1: Did you word it right? See list of commonly mispronounced words in back of book.'" He looked at Giles. "Want to go through the word list?"

"No. Please continue."

"'Can you read in the language the spell was in?'" Xander scoffed. "That's kind of a given', isn't it?"

"No. Xander, can you please read without the commentary?"

"Okay. 'Number 2: Did you use the correct ingredients? Did you exchange any ingredients? See substitution list in back of book.'" He looked at Giles, uncertainly. "Do you wanna' -?"

"No."

Willow looked up, interested. "There's a substitution list?"

"Not now, please, Willow."

Xander read, "'Have you performed your spell on one of the following dates. . . .'" He stopped again. "It's a big list, Giles. You want it?"

"No. I'm fairly certain nothing untoward was scheduled or prophesied, and the star alignment wasn't -.""

"Hey!" Xander said, reading. "I remember this one. The Feast of St. Vigious."

"That's coming up next month," Giles said.

Xander looked worried. "Should we be doin' something about that? You know, getting ready. . . ."

"I am fully aware of all the important events that transpire on the Hellmouth, Xander. Now, please, you're prolonging an ordeal that is excruciating already."

Anya entered and gave each of them an inquiring look.

Xander held up the book. "Troubleshooting guide."

She nodded, folded her arms over her chest, and took on a look of anticipation.

Xander returned his attention to the book. "'Um . . . number 4: check power source, i.e. sun, moon, stars, nature, other dimension -.'"

Willow perked up again. "You can use power from another dimension for spells?" She gave Giles an excited look. "That is so cool. Can I -?"

"No. Xander, please."

"'If you were the power source: did you eat today? Did you get enough sleep? Are you pregnant, lactating, or menopausal?'" He stopped and looked disconcerted. "Giles, is this gonna' get worse? 'Cause, I don't wanna' read about girl problems."

"Xander, read," Giles said, rigidly.

Xander groaned and steeled himself. "'Number 5: check your person for magical artifacts or everyday items that may be confounding your spell. Talismans, magic dust, clay/certain types of mud on shoes (see index of porous materials), garish clothing, goat's milk, certain cheeses (see index), liquid crystal display watches, pocket calculators -.'" He broke off because Anya darted across the room and assaulted Willow.

Willow jumped up and tried to fight her off. "Hey!"

Anya didn't bother replying as she thrust a hand into Willow's pocket. They struggled for a few seconds before they ended up on the floor with some of Willow's belongings scattered around their feet.

"What is going on?" Giles asked, standing.

More huffing and groaning issued from the two women as they rolled around on the carpet. Their feet hit the chairs, toppling some and banging the others into the table loudly.

"Xander! What's going on?" Giles asked, both hands on the table.

Xander, mesmerized by the sight of the wrestling match on the floor, could only gape.

"Xander," Giles said, firmly.

"Oh . . . um . . . just Anya trying to do a full body search on Wil." He couldn't pull his eyes from the scene. "She's not taking it too well." He stared at the spectacle with unabashed fascination. "Never any mud when you need it. . . ." he mumbled.

Giles fumed for a few seconds, and eventually said, "Maybe you'd better help her."

Xander looked up, startled. "Uh . . . which one?"

Giles hesitated, then said, "Anya."

 

  
"Honey, I picked these out earlier. . . ." Buffy said, sitting and turning to the page she wanted.

Spike brightened as he watched her. She was so happy, plotting her wedding and not thinking about killing demons. If he had anything to say about their impending ever after, he'd do the slaying for her and she could go to school or get a job . . . whatever she wanted and couldn't have now.

"Here!" Buffy said, holding the catalog up so Spike could see it. "I want to go with burgundy and cream -."

"I'm not wearin' those nancy boy colors."

"Not for you, silly. For the bridesmaids."

"Oh, okay. Whatever you want, luv."

Xander stepped into the kitchen, a hand over his right eye.

"What happened to you?" Spike asked.

Xander told them.

Joyce stood and went to the freezer. She opened it and began putting ice cubes in a dishcloth.

"Find anything?" Spike asked.

"No."

"Here," Joyce said, handing Xander the homemade ice pack.

He held it to his eye. "Need I ask how things are going in here?"

"I was just about to ask where Buffy and Spike are going to live after they're married," Joyce said.

Xander groaned and poured himself a cup of coffee. A hell dimension had nothing on their situation. Of course, he'd never been in a hell dimension, but it couldn't possibly compare to this torture.

"Now, Xander," Joyce said, sternly, "it's something that really needs to be discussed,"

"They're not getting married!" Xander said, throwing his arms in the air and spilling coffee on the counter.

"Xander, I thought you were my friend," Buffy said, frustrated. "I love Spike and he loves me and we're getting married and we'll be very happy and you'll just have to accept it!"

"That's right, pet," Spike said, kissing her cheek.

"Making the rest of us nauseous isn't gonna' help," Xander said, "so can you stop with the making out . . . and in front of your mom!" he said, gesturing at Joyce.

Joyce smiled, ignoring Xander's outburst. "Now, I don't want to be pushy, Buffy, but I think the best thing is for you two to live here while you finish college."

"You don't mind?" Buffy asked, surprised.

"Of course not."

The phone rang again and Joyce answered it.

"Spike, it's for you, honey."

"Thanks, mum."

Xander shook his head and sat on the floor. He put his head in his hands.

"Yeah?" Spike said. He listened for a minute, then covered the receiver. "You want us to collect the mojo stuff? Seems to me you're askin' a lot."

Buffy looked worried.

"What is it, Buffy?" Joyce asked.

"I was just wondering how we're gonna' pay for all this."

"Don't worry about that, honey. I'll take care of it."

"But, I don't want you to have to do that."

"Chicken feet?" Spike said into the phone. "Don't think so."

Buffy pushed her catalog aside and took on a serious look. "Spike doesn't have a job - nocturnal predator doesn't really count - so, how. . . .?"

"I've been thinking about that, Buffy," Joyce said. "I could give him a job at the gallery."

Spike heard and said, "I don't want some poofy job dustin' paintings."

"Honey!" Buffy said.

Spike looked abashed and said, "Sorry, mum. It's just - you know - evil vampire here." He gestured at himself. "Got a reputation to uphold." He listened into the phone for a second. "What was that?" He looked at Xander. "They want us to meet them at the old factory outside of town."

Xander shook his head. "I'm not leaving and they're not getting in." He lunged for Spike and covered the receiver with his hand. "Look," he said, "just stall 'em. We don't have to do any spell."

"They can hear you, you know," Spike said.

"Xander," Buffy said, "this sounds serious."

"Just noticing that, are you?"

"Maybe I should go slay them."

"There are a lot, Buff, and they're a little off their rockers by now."

"We can't have you endangered like this. Demons on the lawn of the church throwing rocks at my wedding is not how I envisioned my perfect day."

Spike said, "Hey, I thought we'd settled that. No church."

Buffy pouted. "We did not settle it. Besides, you never said where you wanted."

"What's wrong with the cemetery?"

"What?" she asked, appalled.

Xander cleared his throat. "Hey . . . phone . . . demons?"

"Wedding by moonlight," Spike said, patiently. "You wanted an outdoor wedding anyway. It'd be like gettin' married at the park."

"No. It would be like getting married at the office," Buffy said. "And, besides . . . the cemetery? How creepy is that? I can't have my relatives gather in a graveyard to witness my nuptial bliss."

"Why not? And you never said anything about relatives."

"I have to have my family there."

Spike frowned. "Just how many are there?"

"Oh for cryin' -!" Xander grabbed the phone from Spike and said, "Hey, you still there?"

Joyce waved a hand in the air. "It's not that many, Spike." She studied him. "Don't you want to have your family and friends there?"

"Got no family," he said.

Buffy got up and crossed to him. She hugged him and kissed his cheek. "You have family now, honey."

Spike looked in danger of going teary-eyed, so Xander punched him in the arm.

"Ow! Soddin' hell, Harris! Was that necessary?"

"Yes. It's bad enough I have to listen to this mushy, gushy romantic yammering, but if you're gonna' go all misty-eyed on me I'm gonna' drive a wooden spoon through your chest."

Spike snorted and glared at the ceiling. "I am not mushy."

"Believe me, you'll thank me when this is over." He pressed the phone to his ear. "What? Hey, we haven't committed to anything yet." He listened for a few seconds, then handed the phone to Spike.

"What now?"

"He doesn't want to talk to me. Says he can smell me through the phone."

"I'll take it in the livin' room."

Spike exited the kitchen and after a few seconds, Xander hung up and turned to face Buffy and Joyce.

"I gotta' talk to Giles," he said, abruptly, and left.

 

  
Anya held the book, frowning at it. She read a sentence, "'Number 6: were you angry, upset, distracted, intoxicated, depressed, etc.?'" She stopped and let out a relieved sigh. She continued. "'If so, a friend or someone you know should read the following helpful hints:'" She scanned the next entries and looked disturbed. "I think Willow should be here for this."

"She is," Giles said, then looked perturbed. "Isn't she? Willow -?"

"Still here," she mumbled.

"Well, I really, really don't see how her being here is not going to benefit us in any way," Anya said, clearly becoming agitated.

Xander stalked into the dining room. "Giles, they're gonna' do a spell on me to quench the stench."

"Who?"

"It's a bad idea, don't you think?" Xander asked.

"What's a bad idea?"

"The smell-spell."

"Who's watching Spike?" Giles asked.

"He's watching himself."

"I don't like the idea of him roaming around alone."

"He's not roaming further than he can smell Buffy," Xander said. "And, back to this smell thing -."

"You'll just have to live with it for now, Xander," Giles said, wearily.

Anya thrust the book at Xander and pointed to the page.

Xander ignored her, but held onto the book. "So, the reversal spell isn't coming along, then?" he asked.

"Not so you would notice," Giles replied.

"Is there a spell that can kind of . . . well . . . cover up another one?"

"What?"

"Can you . . . like leave a spell in place and just . . . you know . . . alter the effect of it?"

"I have no idea what you're rambling about, Xander."

"If I just cover it up is that the same as reversing it? Because, it's the smell that's keeping them at bay. Is it . . . like . . . still there?"

"I have a headache, Xander, and you're making it worse. Please stop talking."

"Yeah," Willow said, "because, you talking and me not seeing you is really freaking me out."

"Oh, well let me just apologize for being so unbearable that you had to WISH me away."

"I didn't -."

"Next time why don't you just wish that you can't hear me, too."

"Xander. . . ."

Anya slapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey!"

She pointed to the page again.

Xander frowned and looked at the book. He read a few lines, then looked up. "Oh."

"What's wrong?" Giles asked.

"Nothing, just . . . uh. . . ." He looked at Willow. "Hey, Wil, you . . . uh . . . look a little . . . dehydrated there."

"What?" she asked, wearily.

"There's coffee in the kitchen."

"I'd love a cup," she said.

Xander didn't move.

"So, uh . . . why don't you take a break then?" Xander said.

She groaned. "Chivalry IS dead," she muttered, and left the room.

"Xander, you're wasting time," Giles said, irritated.

"Yeah, well . . . uh . . . moving on then. . . ." He squinted unnecessarily over the book. "'Number 6: were you angry, upset, distracted -.'"

"I didn't just read that," Anya interrupted.

"Well, if you let me, I'll take care of that," Xander said. He was beginning to feel harassed. He picked up where he left off. "'Intoxicated, depressed. . . .'"

"Xander, Anya just read that."

"Oh, well, why didn't you say so?" He said, annoyed. He skipped down to the helpful hints. "'A. Try to calm him/her. Tranquilizers are ill-advised, but a nice hot cup of tea can be very beneficial.'" Xander looked at Giles. "I think it's very obvious a bunch of stuffy old English guys wrote this manual."

"Xander. . . ."

"Okay, okay. 'B. Get him/her to focus and read the reversal spell again. Do not be critical of initial failures. C. If intoxicated, black coffee and time are your only hope. Be patient. D. If depressed or feeling unappreciated and/or useless, make him/her feel good about themselves. Focus on positives and refrain from negative statements, particularly if any or all of your lives are in danger.'"

Anya nodded vigorously.

"'Make him/her feel loved and appreciated. Sincerity is crucial.'" Xander finished and looked up. "That's probably it, don't you think, Giles?"

Giles massaged his forehead. "Possibly."

"I mean, she was drunk for awhile, but probably not when she cast the spell. And, besides, she's sober now."

"Yes." Giles thought about it. "If she is feeling unappreciated and discouraged we have to make her feel -."

"Good about herself. Loved and appreciated," Xander quoted the book.

"Yes."

"Okay." He closed the book. "I'll go get her."

Xander left and Giles spoke. "Anya, I know that you and Willow are not seeing eye to eye on anything tonight, but we really have to try and make her feel appreciated."

"I can't wait," Anya said.

 

  
Xander stalked through the living room with Willow in tow. He had coffee on his shirt and a red splotch on his chest as a stinging reminder never to sneak up on someone to whom you were invisible.

Spike was on the couch, a notepad on his knee and a pencil in his hand. He looked up as they passed.

"Where you goin'?" Spike asked.

"Just stay here," Xander said.

"What? You don't think I can help?"

"Pretty sure," Xander said.

Giles' hand towel from earlier was laying on the coffee table, now dry. Spike picked it up and tossed it to Willow.

"What's this for?" she asked, catching it awkwardly.

"All that self-pitying blubbering," he said, shrugging. "I figured you'd want a hankie."

Willow turned red and threw the towel at him.

"Maybe once we fix this demon problem, me and Harris can go scrounge you up a date. Might be hard to find someone that pitiful, though."

"Spike . . . you . . . I. . . ." Willow spluttered.

"Lay off, Spike," Xander said. He tried to pull Willow out of the room.

"Might help if you perked up your wardrobe," Spike said, gesturing at her.

Willow, rapidly turning purple, said, "I am so going to . . . to . . . turn you into . . . something . . . really . . . really . . .ugly!"

"This gothic, flower-child getup might do it for some," Spike said, indicating her clothes, "but you gotta' eventually wake up and smell the rejection."

In a rapid move that startled Xander, Willow lunged at the end table, picked up the telephone, and smashed Spike on the head.

"Ow! Hey, that was. . . ." He toppled over and fell on the floor, unconscious.

Willow, still breathing hard, picked up the receiver and clanged it down on the carriage.

"Well," Xander said, eyeing Spike's recumbent form, "that was really satisfying."

The phone rang.

Willow looked at it suspiciously, then answered it.

On the floor, Spike moaned and slowly pushed himself to his knees, a hand each on the coffee table and sofa.

Xander watched him with casual disinterest.

"Soddin' hell," he said, putting a hand on top of his head. "No wonder you drive men away."

Willow threw the phone at him. "It's for you."

Spike managed to catch it, with the receiver landing on the floor.

Willow stomped away, heading for the dining room.

Spike pulled the receiver up by the cord and held it to his ear. "Yeah?"

Xander headed for the kitchen. He stopped when Spike said, "They're threatening us now. If we don't help 'em fix this they say they're gonna' set the house on fire."

Xander stopped at the door. "I thought they couldn't get that close to me without gagging."

Spike shrugged. "The stench is drivin' 'em batty. Some of 'em figure they'd be dyin' in a noble cause."

Spike and Xander stared at each other for a minute. "Let me call you back," Spike said, then, "Yeah, okay."

"Well?"

"He was given' me his cell phone number."

"What?"

"They're leaving Willie's cause the smell's makin' 'em dopey."

"So, where are they going? The factory?"

"Yeah." Spike leaned back and put his feet on the coffee table. "So, what'd Rupert have to say?"

"Not a help."

"I think we should do what they want. Otherwise, there's gonna' be a mob of pissed off demons on the lawn, pukin' and throwin' rocks."

Xander sighed. "All right. Call 'em back and make a deal. They can't attack us though!"

"Relax, I know 'em. They'd rather be home watchin' the telly right now."

 

 

  
Carl's cell phone rang. He and Larry were in the lead with a large procession of demons following. They were marching to the factory.

"Yeah?" he said. He listened, then handed it to Larry. "Spike."

The group stopped, eager to see how the negotiations were coming along.

"Says they'll deal, but they're not comin' out here," Larry said.

"Then, we gotta' find a neutral place," Carl said.

"I can't breathe! I can't breathe!" Demons were running around, gasping and periodically leaning over and clutching their sides.

"Hey, shut up!" Larry yelled over his shoulder.

"Easy for you to say, man!" one of them gasped. "You can stop breathin'. We can't."

"Just shut up while I'm on the phone." He spoke into the phone. "Okay, we'll find someplace else."

Larry listened while the others hopped around in various stages of discomfort.

 

  
As Xander, Buffy and Joyce entered the dining room, Giles was saying, ". . . and your ability to decipher the glut of information on the internet is remarkable, to say the least."

"Uh . . . thanks, Giles," Willow said. She dropped into the closest chair, a puzzled frown on her face. She glanced at Anya. She and Giles seemed to be taking turns.

Anya worked her face into an approximation of affability and curled her lips into a thin smile. "I think you're a very agreeable person and you'll probably have lots of men clambering for your affections."

Willow nodded, not sure how to take Anya's sudden amicableness.

"Hey, Wil," Xander said, brightly. His face betrayed his internal struggle as he tried to think of something to say. Fortunately, Willow couldn't see him. He eventually made a decision and said, "You know I never thanked you for those class notes."

"What?" She shook her head. "Xander, you don't go to college."

"I know that. I meant back in high school. You know, biology? I was terrible at it and you let me copy your notes all the time. I probably didn't thank you."

"You did."

"Oh, well . . . then, how 'bout that time -."

Buffy interrupted. "Wil, did I tell you I love your new hair cut?" She walked across the room , bumping into Xander on the way.

"Sorry, Xand."

"It's okay. I'm gonna' be getting that cow bell pretty soon. . . ."

Buffy ignored him as she picked up a strand of Willow's hair. "The color, the bounce. It's so . . . perky. I was thinking about doing mine the same."

"You're not gonna' dye it red, are you?" Willow asked, disturbed. "I don't think that would look good on you."

Buffy looked at her mother as an uncomfortable silence settled in the room.

"Willow, honey," Joyce said, seeing the awkward turning of the situation, "we're just really concerned about this spell you've done and I know Rupert would like you to fix it. We all would. Nobody here is blaming you for anything. We all make mistakes."

"Yes, that's right," Giles said, pleased to have another adult voicing a little reason. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel unappreciated. I actually rely on your talents more than you know."

Willow looked stunned, but nonetheless pleased by his words. "Thanks, Giles."

He reached out and she put her hand in his. "Will you please try your spell one more time?" he asked, gently.

"Okay," she said, with a slight nod. She tried again.

Everyone in the room stood still, fearing any movement might cause side effects they wouldn't like. After a few seconds, Giles said, quietly, "I still don't see anything."

Willow looked upset. "I'm sorry, Giles."

"It's all right," he said, hoping he sounded sincere.

"Hey, Wil," Xander said, persevering, "I know we're just friends and we've known each other for a really long time, but I don't think I ever told you how pretty you are."

"Thanks," she said, smiling wanly in his direction.

A snort sounded from the hall and a second later, Spike was in the room. "You ask me," he said, gesturing at Willow, "the bloom's off the rose and no amount of makeup is gonna' make anyone wanna' pick that flower."

 

  
The factory was ill-lit with only a handful of candles situated around the room. The more hardy demons were pacing while their less stolid companions were supine on the floor, breathing through anything they could find to bunch up over their noses.

Larry was reading from the magic book. "We need a vat."

"How big?" Sponge One asked.

"The kid has to fit in it."

"How 'bout a bathtub?" his chameleon buddy suggested. Several of the demon girls had joined in the trek to the factory and he was vacillating between pink and green.

Larry sighed, his patience ebbing away. "Where are you going to get a bathtub?"

"I got one," a demon in the back piped up.

"How are you gonna' get it here?"

"I'll just carry it."

"Why can't we just do this at your place?" Carl asked.

"No way man! Can't have that stench in my house. My wife would kill me."

"Okay, bring the tub," Larry said. "Now, how about the chicken feet?"

 

  
Spike was lying on the couch, an ice pack on his forehead. Xander was slumped in a chair.

"Didn't think she had it in her," Spike mumbled.

"I told you to stay in here, didn't I?" Xander said. His gaze traveled listlessly around the room. They were in hell. He wondered why there hadn't been any signposts. It seemed only fair to warn a person. Of course, being hell, that would only add to the torture. . . .

". . . didn't think a slip of a thing like her could throw a chair that far," Spike was saying.

"Huh?" Xander said. "Oh, well, you should see her throw a Big Wheel."

Spike lifted his head from the couch and looked at Xander.

Xander shrugged. "We were eight at the time. I broke the head off her favorite Barbie doll."

Spike snorted. "Always figured you played with dolls."

"I did not play with dolls!"

The telephone rang and Spike sat up and answered it.

"Yeah?" He listened for a few seconds, then looked at Xander. "It's for your girlfriend."

Xander looked surprised. "Who is it?"

"Says his names D'Hoffran."

 

  
"My wife won't let me take the tub," the demon said, handing Larry's cell phone to him.

Larry looked annoyed. "Now what? We need something big, something he'll fit in."

"How 'bout a trash bag?"

"It wouldn't hold."

"They make some heavy duty ones, you know."

"We can't risk it," Larry said.

"How 'bout a beer keg?"

"That's kinda' small. . . ."

 

  
Anya had taken her call in the kitchen, but had been put on hold. She was tapping her foot impatiently when a voice came on the line.

"Anyanka, I'm really sorry for not showing up in person, but the stench that boy is putting off is torturous."

"I don't need any help," Anya replied.

"Then why did you call?"

"I didn't."

Silence.

"I see."

Anya took a deep breath and said, "We didn't do any imprudent spells around here, and everything's going just fine, and I don't need any help from you." She paused and glared at the ceiling. "Oh, and you weren't like the father I never had and I don't miss you at all."

D'Hoffran was quiet a moment, then, "You could have just sent a card."

 

  
The doorbell rang and Xander got up and answered it.

He opened the door and stared.

Willow came up behind him, took one look, and said, "Oh, great. Time for our yearly Angsters Anonymous meeting."

She trudged back to the dining room, not wanting to get involved.

"Um . . . come in," Xander said, stepping back.

"Who is it?" Spike called from the couch.

Xander stepped aside.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Spike yelled, jumping to his feet.

Xander looked uneasily from one to the other and said, "I think I'll go help Giles."

"Spike, you and I need to have a little talk," Angel said, stepping into the room.


	3. Chapter 3

"How 'bout a swimming pool?" a demon asked, hopefully.

"We can't fill one of those up, man," Carl said, "it'd take all night."

"No, no. One of them baby ones, you know, for kids."

Larry and Carl exchanged a look.

"I don't know," Larry said. "He's a big kid."

"What if it gets a leak?" Carl asked.

"Duct tape."

 

  
In the dining room, Willow read from the book. "'Are you the original spell-caster? If so, skip to page twenty-five. If you aren't, continue.'" She looked up. "Well, that's easy enough." She started turning pages.

"Stay on that page, please," Giles said.

"But, I'm the original spell-caster, Giles."

"I know, but pretend it's me reading the book."

"Fine," she huffed.

Anya rushed into the room and grabbed Giles to get his attention.

Giles got a whiff of her perfume. "Anya?"

"No," she answered.

Willow looked disgusted. "Yes, it is. Why are you lying?"

"I'm not!"

"Anya," Giles said, "do you have something to tell us?"

"No."

"Then what do you want?"

"I don't know how to break the spell."

"Well, join the club. Neither do we."

"I mean I really DON'T know what's wrong!"

"Yes, I understand. . . ." Giles looked puzzled. "Anya, have you been effected by this spell?"

"No."

"Are you certain?"

"No."

Realization was slowly reaching Giles. He said, "Is your name Anya?"

"No," she said hopefully.

Giles took a deep breath and put a hand to his head. "All right. I see." He considered Anya's statements over the last few minutes. "So, you know how to break the spell?"

"No."

"All right. Is it something we're doing?"

"Yes."

"Is it something Willow is doing?"

"Yes."

Giles nodded and steeled himself for a round of 20 questions.

 

  
"An ice chest. . . ."

"He won't fit in that," Carl said.

"We could chop 'em up. Mash the pieces in real tight. . . ."

Larry stared at him. "What kind of a moron are you?"

"Um. . . ."

"We can't kill him!"

The demon looked sheepish. "Oh. Right."

Larry raised his voice. "Anyone got any ideas?"

A short, pudgy demon in the back held up his hand.

 

  
"Traffic was hell." Angel said, placidly. He was seated at the kitchen table. "I think every demon in Sunnydale is heading to Los Angeles. What's going on?"

Joyce explained what she knew.

"Huh," Angel said, nodding in understanding. He glanced up at Spike who was leaning against the counter, glowering. "We have to settle a few things, Spike."

Spike smiled wickedly at him. "How 'bout sunlight at 20 paces? That ought to do it."

Angel looked annoyed. "You know the rules, Spike."

"Rules?" Buffy asked. She was uptight, trying to be supportive of two people she cared about without offending the other.

"Yes," Angel said, firmly. He looked at Spike again. "Vampires don't usually get married, you know."

"So?"

"So, there's a little thing called protocol. Maybe you've heard about it?"

Spike snorted and rolled his eyes. "Like I care 'bout that."

"If you were still a vampire you would."

"Hey!" Spike pushed himself away from the counter. "I'm still a vampire! Still the big bad! Just 'cause I can't bite anything right now -!"

Buffy wrapped an arm around him and put a hand on his cheek. "It's okay, honey. We know you're evil."

Angel ground his teeth together. "Don't make this harder, Spike. If you want to marry her. . . ."

"Well, I'm sure you'll work this out quickly," Joyce said, looking pointedly at Spike.

Spike let out a low growl. "Fine." He crossed to Angel and tried to look civil. "I want to marry Buffy, the Slayer."

"Why?"

Spike snorted again and gestured. "Look at her."

Buffy smiled, self-consciously, and looked at the tiled floor.

Spike said, smirking, "Makes me feel all manly when I'm around 'er."

"And?" Angel prompted.

Spike rubbed his chest. "I get all hot an' tingly and wanna' throw her over my shoulder and carry her off to. . . ." He looked guiltily at Joyce. "Um . . . to a restaurant . . . uh . . . for a . . . a candlelight dinner with . . . um . . . music and flowers . . . and, um . . . yeah. . . ."

"Spike, that's so romantic," Buffy said, wiping a tear from her eye.

"And?" Angel persisted.

Spike groaned and rolled his eyes. "Because I love her!" He marched back to Buffy and glowered at Angel. "Happy now?"

Angel thought about it. "Not ecstatic, but . . . I guess it'll do. There's supposed to be a ceremony, you know."

Spike looked irritated. "Yeah, yeah . . . incense, crooning, and flag wavin'," he said, gesturing.

"We don't have a flag," Angel said, testily.

"Do I have your permission or what?"

Angel shook his head and sighed as a longsuffering parent. "Yes, you can marry her."

Buffy squealed in glee and jumped up and down, clapping her hands.

"I have to be at the wedding, though," Angel said.

"What! You bloody well do not!"

Angel sighed. "Yes, I do. Drusilla is your sire and she's obviously not going to be there to give you away."

Buffy giggled. "Spike has to be given away?"

"I bloody well do not!" Spike said.

"He's leaving the fold," Angel explained. "Vampires don't usually get married and since he's marrying a human . . . well, he has to be cast out."

"What does that mean?" Buffy asked, worriedly.

Angel shrugged. "Nothing. Technically, he should be ostracized but nobody really cares. We have to go through with the ceremonial handover, though. Vampires are finicky about tradition. They don't care what it means, just so long as we don't ignore custom."

"Well, since you're going to be there anyway. . . ." Buffy began.

 

  
Xander joined the group in the dining room and stared. He didn't think the night could get any weirder, but every hour seemed to prove him wrong.

Anya stood in the middle of the room, miming for Willow. Both look exasperated.

Willow said, "Looks like. . . ."

Anya nodded vigorously.

"Yes! Oh! No! No!" Willow said. "Sounds like!"

"No!" Anya said, excitedly.

"Okay," Willow said, out of breath, "go on."

"Giles," Xander asked, cautiously, "what's going on?"

Giles sighed. "Anya has been effected by the spell, too."

"What!"

"Apparently, she can't tell the truth."

Realization hit Xander as he thought over the last few hours. "Great," he muttered. He looked at his girlfriend as she mimed for Willow.

"What's with the charades?"

"Anya has information."

"About Wil's spell?"

"I think so. It wasn't terribly clear."

Xander watched.

"First letter?" Willow asked.

Anya nodded enthusiastically.

"Last letter?"

Anya nodded.

"Second letter?"

"No!"

"Okay!" Willow clapped her hands.

Anya held up all ten fingers.

Willow gave Giles an exhausted look. "Charades is hard enough without the other players lying, Giles. This is hard."

"I know. Just keep at it."

"Are you sure you don't want to call technical support, Giles?" Xander asked.

Giles clinched his jaw. "I will not be reduced to calling those bloody pillocks for help," he ground out.

"Okaaay. . . ," Xander said. "Just thought you'd like to know what's goin' on in the kitchen."

"More wedding planning, I should imagine," Giles said with distaste.

"Yeah, and Angel's here."

"Yes, Willow told me."

Xander stared. "And, that doesn't bother you?"

"I don't hear fighting," he said, in exasperation. "Besides, Buffy can handle it."

Spike's voice broke through then. "No soddin' way in hell!"

"Now what?" Giles asked.

"Spike!" Buffy screamed. "Calm down!"

"I'll go see," Xander said.

In the kitchen he found Spike pacing in a tight circle, gesturing wildly and spewing the occasional unintelligent syllable at the group. Buffy was trying to calm him.

"I'd rather have my skin flayed off and . . . and . . . and sewn back on with a staple gun!" Spike screamed.

"Spike, honey, be reasonable. . . ."

"Reasonable?" He stopped and ran his hands through his hair, then glared at Angel. "I . . . am . . . NOT . . . having . . . this . . . WANKER . . . be . . . my . . . best . . . man!" He turned a stern look on Buffy. "Is that bloody well clear enough for everyone?" he asked, looking from one to the other.

"So, you're upset?" Angel said.

"Still got a few things to work out, huh?" Xander asked, indifferently.

Buffy brightened. "Xander!"

"Yeah, right here," he said, holding up a hand. "I could throw a sheet over my body," he said, curtly, "that way you still couldn't see me but you'd know where I am."

"Spike, honey," Buffy said, ignoring Xander's bitterness. She grabbed his face with both hands, leaned in and whispered into his ear. "Xander could do it."

He made a face.

"You don't have anyone else," she said, reasonably.

Spike took a calming breath, but started choking midway through.

"Breathe through your mouth, honey."

Spike nodded.

"You wanna' think it over?" Buffy asked.

Spike grumbled, "I don't have to think about it."

Buffy looked upset.

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. "Fine. I'll think about it, luv."

Xander groaned. "We've got a serious mojo crisis here in case none of you noticed, and a reading from the Necromicon goin' on in the dining room," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "So, could you keep it down in here? Besides, I don't think the neighbors care."

The group stared at him.

Angel grimaced. "What is that smell?"

 

  
"We got everything?" Carl asked. He was standing outside the factory with Larry and a group of demons.

"Think so. Spike's supposed to bring the rest."

Carl studied the assembled demons, then turned to Larry. "So, we gonna' draw those straws, then?"

 

  
Willow stared at the notepad in her hand. She looked up and gave Anya a puzzled frown.

Anya nodded, prompting her to read it aloud.

Exasperated, Giles asked, "What does it say, Willow?"

She cleared her throat and read, "'It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye.'" She looked up and her gaze wandered to Giles.

He looked perturbed. "Wonderful," he muttered. "A cryptic demon."

Willow said, "All this for a stupid cliche?"

Anya looked guilty.

"Do you know what it means?" Willow asked.

Anya nodded vigorously, frowning the whole time.

"Well, what -? Oh." It wasn't easy remembering everything Anya said was untrue. Over the last hour Willow had grudgingly realized that her do-my-will spell was responsible. She just didn't know how to fix it.

Giles looked annoyed. "A cliche never did anyone any good and I strongly suspect the first time it was used the speaker had a round of vegetables chucked at him."

"Um, well," Willow said, "wanna' go back to the book?"

 

  
Xander and Spike were back in the living room again. Spike couldn't take anymore wedding plans and he especially couldn't take anymore of Angel. Spike frowned, thinking about him. He wanted to crack his sire over the head with a blunt object, then drag him outside and wait under a nice, shady tree for the sun to come up. Of course, Buffy wouldn't like that. . . .

"Spike?"

"Huh?"

"Are they gonna' call back?" Xander asked.

"Who? Oh . . . yeah, when they have a meetin' place we can all agree on." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Xander. "They also had a list of things they want us to bring."

Xander took the paper and read through it, shaking his head from time to time.

Giles stalked through the room quickly, having gotten a feel for the layout some hours ago. It wasn't clear whether he needed a coffee break or a break from the occupants of the dining room.

"How's it going, Rupert?" Spike asked. "Need anything?"

Giles ignored him and kept going.

A minute passed in silence while Spike wrote fervently on his notepad and Xander studied the room with a desultory eye and mulled over the day's events. Occasionally, his eye would travel back to the list in his hand and he groaned and shook his head again.

"What rhymes with saffron?" Spike asked, suddenly.

Xander gawked at him. "Tell me that's for the smell-spell."

"It's for Buffy."

Xander smirked. "Don't tell me you're writing poems for her?"

Spike shrugged casually.

"Does Buffy like poetry?" Xander asked.

"All girls like poetry," Spike answered.

"Are you sure about that?"

Spike eyed him. "Don't they?"

Xander stared at him. "I don't know. I do know, however, that Buffy never mentioned getting any poems from Dead Boy."

Spike groaned and shook his head. "That poofter wouldn't know the way to a woman's heart if he had a road map and a guide."

Xander laughed.

Spike turned serious. "She wants 'em to be my best man."

"Yeah, I heard."

"What's goin' through her head that would make her think any man would want her ex to be her fiancé's best man?" Spike asked, astonished.

Xander nodded in understanding. "Yeah, that's rough."

Spike went back to his poetry.

Giles emerged from the kitchen after only five minutes and headed for the dining room. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and the pot in the other.

"Hey, Giles, do chicken fryers have to be refrigerated if you're gonna' use 'em in a spell?" Xander asked, waving his list at him.

Giles didn't answer.

"Yeah, well, okay," Xander called after him. "I'll just be right here . . . with Spike, if you need me for anything really important . . . like getting donuts or driving you around. . . ."

Spike glowered at the door to the kitchen. "He's probably in there right now tellin' her embarrassin' stories about me."

"I doubt it," Xander said. "We already have so many."

Spike gave him a disdainful look and went back to his poetry.

Xander shook his head. "When are they gonna' call back?"

"When they're ready."

They waited in silence some more and eventually Xander asked, "What does saffron mean, anyway?"

"Yellow . . . golden . . . blonde. . . ."

"Why don't you just use one of them? It'd be easier to rhyme."

Spike took on a condescending look. "You obviously don't know anything about poetry. It's gotta' be flowery and romantic."

"I know enough to know that nothing rhymes with saffron."

 

  
In the dining room, Willow was lying on the floor, the ice pack on her forehead again, and Giles was seated at the table again, his head in his hands. Anya continued reading from the book. "'Do you have any disability that precludes successful spell-casting? i.e. vertigo, high blood pressure, anxiety disorder, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, low intelligence, low self esteem, stress-induced nausea, tight budget, obscure locale, indifferent friends. . . .'"

Angel entered and crossed to Giles. "Can I talk to you, Giles?"

Giles looked up, wearily. "What is it?"

"I'm throwing a bachelor party for Spike. Buffy thought we could use your place."

Giles stared blankly at him for nearly half a minute.

"Giles?"

Giles eventually found his voice. "You're actually planning a bachelor party for Spike?"

"Who else is gonna' do it?"

Giles had the uncomfortable feeling that the quagmire they were all in was only getting wider and deeper.

". . . won't be that many people," Angel was saying. He grunted in amusement. "Let's face it, how many people like Spike?"

"I wouldn't care to guess."

"So, do you mind?"

Giles took another deep breath. "If it comes to that, Angel, I'll even help you pay for the bloody thing."

"Great," he said, slapping Giles on the back. "I've got some calls to make," he said, then left the room.

Giles turned back to Willow and Anya, who were still reading.

"What was your anxiety level? Were you threatened before or during the spell-casting? (Imminent death, dismemberment, imprisonment, etc.) Peer pressure? (verbal abuse, were you embarrassed or self-conscious? Did someone dare you to do it. . .?'"

 

  
Xander was on the phone again. He spoke for a minute, then looked at Spike. "They want to meet us at a church."

"What?" Spike leapt off the couch, his notepad falling to the floor.

Xander shrugged. "That old, rundown one at the edge of town."

"I don't like churches," Spike said, ardently. "Got too many crosses and stuff that burns."

"You don't have to touch anything."

Spike fumed.

"Look," Xander said, trying to be reasonable, "we'll be in and out."

Spike grumbled for a minute, but eventually agreed.

"We'll be there," Xander said. "Bring what?"

 

  
"You think they'll let us have it at the Bronze?" Buffy asked. She was at the sink, washing the few dishes that had been used through the night.

"I don't see why not," Joyce answered, casually turning pages in her bridal catalog.

Xander and Spike entered and began plundering the refrigerator.

"Can I help you boys find something?" Joyce asked.

"No thanks," Xander said.

"We're okay, mum." Spike winked at her and turned to the cupboards.

Joyce grinned. He was sweet and charming and strong and exactly what Buffy needed.

Xander, raiding the refrigerator, said over his shoulder, "Do you have any cooking sherry?"

 

  
In the dining room:

"'Number 52:,'" Anya read, "' Was this an emotion spell? Skip to page twenty-two. A matter altering spell? Skip to page fifty-three. A transmogrification spell? Skip to page seventy-six. . . .'"

"Giles," Willow interrupted, "this is unbelievable. What kind of a help guide is this? I've seen shorter ones on my computer."

"It's in depth, Willow," he answered. "There are an innumerable amount of spells and multiple ways for them to go wrong." His chair was pushed against the wall and he leaned his head back and stared blankly at the ceiling. "You'd do well to remember that."

She gave him a scornful look and said, "Why don't you just get me my own troubleshooting guide?"

"I did. It's at my house. I just didn't think you were in any condition to be performing any spells lately." He closed his eyes. "Turns out I was right."

Willow looked annoyed and ready to argue. Anya noticed and cleared her throat loudly.

"Please continue, Anya," Giles said.

She smiled, feeling useful, and proceeded to read. "'Was this an inter-dimensional gateway or alternating portal spell? A. With or without fluctuations in the time line or B. With or without personal temporal displacement?'"

Willow's jaw dropped open.

 

  
Angel paced the living room, the phone held to his ear. "I think you're overreacting, Cordy." He listened. "Spike has some good points." He listened some more. "Well, maybe not good. Just . . . less . . . evil. . . ."

 

  
"'What is your I.Q.?'" Anya read, then looked questioningly at Willow.

Willow rolled her eyes and didn't answer.

 

  
"What do you need all that stuff for, Xand?" Buffy asked. She put the last cup in the drainer and turned to face them.

"Just taking care of this little demon problem, Buff."

"Oh! Well, maybe I should help. I am the Slayer, you know." She looked at them expectantly.

"That's okay, luv," Spike said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "We can do this. You stay here with mum and work out the wedding plans."

"But, I think I should -."

Spike leaned in and put gentle hands on her shoulders. "Pet, do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Then, let me do this for you."

She smiled. He was so wonderful, always thinking of her and not of himself. A tear trailed down her cheek.

"What's wrong, luv?"

"I don't deserve you, Spike," she said, quietly.

He grabbed her face with both hands and forced her to look at him. "Hey, if anyone doesn't deserve happiness it's me."

"He's right," Xander said, indifferently.

Buffy put her hands over his. "What if I can't make you happy?"

Spike looked stunned. "That could never happen, pet." He kissed her lightly on the lips. "I'm already happier than I've ever been in my entire life."

"Really?" she asked, her eyes big, glittering with tears.

"Really."

Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike and hugged him.

Xander cleared his throat. "I don't wanna' interrupt this thrilling display of unabashed melodrama, but the demon community is going to Def-Con 4."

Spike pulled away. "Yeah, okay."

 

  
"'Were you sick or injured? i.e., cold, flu, heart attack, stroke, blow to the head, puncture wound(s), crush injury, poisoned, drugged. . . .'"

 

  
"It is not outrageous," Angel said into the phone. "Do you know how much liquor it takes to get a vampire drunk?"

 

  
"'Are you standing on or nearby a mystical site?'" Anya read. "'Mausoleum, pyramid, ceremonial burial place, some newer cemeteries, a pagan temple, Stonehenge, a hellmouth. . . .'"

Giles' head snapped up. "Hellmouth?"

Willow stood and snatched the book from Anya. She read further down. "'Never perform the following spells on or in proximity to a hellmouth: 1: Love potions. They effect the undead as well as the living and a hellmouth attracts. . . .'"

"Next," Giles said, urgently.

"'Number 2: Do-thy-will spells.'" Willow gave a little cry of shock and mortification. "Oh . . . Giles -!"

"Just read it, please, Willow." Giles stood and began pacing.

"'The very nature of the do-thy-will spell and its continuing influence precludes use on or near a hellmouth as the mystical energy radiating from the supernatural portal will likely perpetuate this type of spell indefinitely.'"

"And. . . ." Giles prompted.

Willow read some more. "'In the event you have been irresponsible enough to endanger yourself and those around you with an amateurish attempt. . . ." Willow stopped. "That is just rude -."

"Willow."

She pursed her lips, then continued. "'Blah, blah, blah . . .place a protective spell around the spell-caster to prevent the energy from the hellmouth from interfering with his/her removal spell. Cast the removal spell again.'" Willow glanced up. "That's it?"

"Look through the book. Find the protection spell," Giles said, quickly.

Willow flipped through several pages with Anya looking over her shoulder. They both squealed at the same time.

Giles sighed. "All right. Do we need anything?"

"Um . . . no," Willow said, reading through it. "Well, nothing I didn't have with me." She glanced at Anya. "Unless you threw the stuff from my pockets away."

"Willow. . . ." Giles warned.

"Okay, okay." She read through the spell while Anya accumulated the things they needed.

 

  
Xander and Spike collected their paraphernalia and deposited it in the living room.

"I don't see who else is gonna' do it," Angel said, reasonably, still on the phone. "Besides, you don't know him like I do."

Angel spotted Spike. "I gotta' go. Yeah, I'll be back before morning." He hung up the phone.

Spike glared at Angel. "You still here?"

"Apparently."

"Don't you have some helpless poofters to save somewhere?"

"I don't see why we need an ice chest," Xander said.

Spike turned away from Angel and shrugged. "Probably just to carry stuff."

"We could've got it in a paper bag," Xander said, gesturing at the ice chest.

Buffy and Joyce joined them. "When will you be back, honey?" Buffy asked.

"Won't take long, luv." A peculiar feeling hit him and he shook his head.

"You okay?" Xander asked. "'Cause, we gotta' get moving."

"Yeah," he said, uncertainly.

Angel blinked several times and took an unsteady step back.

Buffy shook her head, then glanced uncertainly around the room.

Unheeding of everyone's perplexity, Xander headed for the door.

"Buffy. . . ?" Joyce said, a baffled look on her face.

Spike picked up the last of their items and made for the door. Xander looked back, expectantly, as Spike hesitated.

He stood behind Buffy for a second, then leaned around and kissed her softly on the neck.

Buffy froze.

"Love you, pet," he whispered.

 

  
"Giles?" Willow asked. "Please, tell me you can see."

Giles cast his gaze around the room, taking in everything, then settled on Willow and Anya. "Yes."

Willow let out a sigh. "I am so sorry, Giles. . . ."

He held up a hand. "Let's discuss it later, Willow. Right now we need to see how everyone else is." He turned and headed out of the room.

Anya glanced at Willow. "If you're thinking of apologizing to me, I don't forgive you. Just so you know."

 

  
Carl paced in front of the church, the goo from his horns dripping all over his shoes and the gravel drive. Larry came up behind him, tugging a reluctant sponge demon.

"He's ready," Larry said.

Carl turned and looked the sponge demon over. "He doesn't look ready."

"I'm ready," he said. He sounded agitated.

Carl peered at him. "Where's your axe?"

"Got it," he said, patting his chest. "Wanna' see -?"

"No!" Carl and Larry shouted in unison.

The sponge demon jumped back. "So . . . um . . . should I hide or what?"

"No, just stick with 'em when he gets here," Larry said. "They gotta' know we mean business."

 

  
Spike and Xander strolled through the park, carrying the ice chest between them.

"So, I'm not buying this 'not all demons are bad' thing," Xander said.

Spike smirked. "That's just like the lot of you."

"What's that mean?"

"You got a prejudice against anything that isn't you."

Xander stopped, jerking Spike back a pace as he kept a hold of the ice chest. "That's not true!"

"Is so."

"Is not."

"Prove it."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

Spike shrugged and tugged on the cooler. They started walking.

Xander glowered at the ground. After a minute, he said, "Demons don't count."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Who says they don't?"

"Who says they do?"

"Hey, I don't have to prove somethin' here, mate. You do."

"Do not."

"Do to. . . ."

 

  
"Well, it seems to have worked," Giles said, looking relieved.

Buffy was standing in a corner, fuming. Angel was trying to placate her.

"It wasn't your fault, Buffy."

"I know that." She stopped and rolled her eyes. "Kissing Spike all night was just . . . just. . . ."

"Disgusting?"

"That's not a strong enough word."

"Revolting?"

"Worse."

"I'll keep trying."

"And the way he kissed my neck on the way out?" she said, appalled. "Like he was still spell-doped. What was that?"

"Well, maybe it just took a little longer. . . ."

"He's playing with me, that's what," Buffy said, jabbing a finger at Angel. "He's got some evil, nasty Spike plan. . . ."

Angel looked unsure. "I don't know, Buff. Spike's not all that good at evil plans."

She gaped at him. "Are you defending him?"

Angel backed up. "No, no. Just making the point that Spike's ability to make a plan and stick to it is about as probable as keeping his attention during a Barry Manilow concert."

Giles approached. "Buffy, I don't want you to chastise yourself over this. It wasn't your fault."

"I told her," Angel said.

Giles nodded. "Do you know where Xander and Spike went?"

"What?"

"They're gone."

 

  
Spike and Xander were stopped and arguing in the middle of a deserted street. The ice chest was on the ground between them.

"So, you're tellin' me they just sit around watching TV all day, snackin' on beer and Twinkies. . . ."

Spike made a face. "That's disgusting."

Xander persisted. ". . .and not making evil plans to open the Hellmouth?"

"Why would they?" Spike picked up his end of the ice chest. "You think they'd rather work for some evil beasty thing that crawls outta' the Hellmouth and doesn't have a pension plan, or work at K-Mart as a night watchman?"

Xander stared at him, unable to think of a response.

Spike shook his end of the chest meaningfully and Xander picked up his end.

"Okay," Xander said, "I can believe that some demons might not wanna' do evil things. They tend to get staked for that. . . ."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Doin' it again."

"What?"

"Did it ever occur to you that they might not WANT to be evil?"

"No."

"See? You're biased."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not. . . ."

 

  
"I can't believe that no one knows where they are," Giles said, perturbed.

Everyone was assembled in the living room, going over everything they'd heard Spike and Xander say during the night.

Buffy said, "They were gonna' take care of this demon problem."

"They asked me something about a suppression spell," Giles said.

The room was quiet for several seconds.

"You don't think Xander's gonna' let them do a spell on him, do you, Giles?" Buffy asked.

Everyone stared at Giles. "We need to find them," he said.

"I can do a locator spell," Willow offered.

Buffy, Giles and Anya turned exasperated looks on her.

 

  
"Fine, but I still say all vampires are evil."

Spike shook his head.

Xander looked astonished, "Vampires maim and kill innocent people every night."

Spike groaned. "We don't maim people."

"Huh?"

"What'd be the point in that?"

"There's no point. You're evil."

"I am not -." Spike stopped. "I mean, I AM evil."

Xander gave him a disdainful look. "So, vamps don't enjoy preying on the innocent and drinking their blood?"

"Yeah, they do."

"Proving my point."

Spike looked offended. "It's what we do. We gotta' eat."

"You drink BLOOD . . . of the INNOCENT."

Spike stopped and stared at him angrily. "What would you tell a cow just before you roasted it over an open flame?"

"Nothing," Xander said, impatiently. "It's a cow."

Spike raised his eyebrows.

"Are you saying we're cows?"

"No." He started walking again. "More like antelope. Cows aren't that nimble."

 

  
"I can't believe I hired a girl to jump out of a cake for him," Angel said, shaking his head.

The group, minus Joyce, was walking through the park. As no one felt comfortable with Willow doing even the simplest of spells, they decided to have Angel follow Spike's scent.

"You did what?" Buffy asked, appalled. "That is so tacky."

"It would've been tasteful."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm so sure Spike would've liked tasteful."

"He's actually not that hard to please, you know."

Buffy groaned. "I can't believe I was kissing Spike all night."

Angel shuddered. "And I can't believe this smell."

"And what's with the romantic 'be back later, honey' routine on the way out the door?"

"It's like rotting flesh with . . . with a little mildew thrown in."

"He's rubbing it in, that's what," Buffy said. "And he's so gonna' pay for that."

"Nobody should have to put up with this stink."

Buffy shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't wanna' think about what might have happened if we hadn't got this thing reversed."

Angel put his arm over his nose and mouth. "Actually, it's more like someone's cooking a big slab of liver and onions. . . ."

Buffy glanced at him. "What? I can't understand you with your arm over your mouth."

Behind them, Giles and Anya were talking. "A suppression spell is very bad," Giles said. "It's like putting a cork on a bottle of champagne, then shaking it up repeatedly. Eventually, it will pop."

Anya frowned. "So, you're saying there could be bursting?"

"Yes."

"Involving Xander?"

"Yes, well . . . I doubt he will explode . . .personally, but the magic they're suppressing will eventually erupt." Giles looked disturbed at the mental picture that conjured up. "I don't really know what will happen."

Anya frowned. "I don't want my boyfriend spewing magic with no warning. It's alarming and people will stare."

"I doubt they'll have time to stare if they're running for cover."

"This could jeopardize my social life."

 

 

  
"You think she wants to keep slayin'?" Spike asked.

"Huh?"

"You know, after we're married?"

Xander looked shocked. "Um . . . well, I know she's been upset about having to stay and guard the Hellmouth, especially when she wanted to go away to college."

"She did?"

"Yeah, but she decided she needed to stay here."

Spike considered that for a minute. "I could do the slayin' for her and she could go to school."

"How? You have a chip in your head that zaps you when you give someone a dirty look."

"I'm gonna' get this fixed," he said, determinedly, pointing at his head. "Once that's not a problem, I can deal with any nasties that turn up." Spike shrugged. "And, if I can't get it out, well . . . I'll just deal with it."

"How?"

"A good jolt every few minutes for awhile and eventually I'll get used to the pain."

Xander looked stunned. "You mean you'd. . .?" He stopped and took a breath. He was bonding with Spike and that had to stop. It someone else saw him. . . . Well, that wasn't likely since no one still in their right mind could. He said, "That's a lot to do for someone you hated just yesterday."

"Never said I hated her."

Xander stared. "Now that is just not something I wanted to hear."

"Why?" Spike snorted. "It's this whole 'all demons are evil thing' again, isn't it?"

"Vampires are."

"Yeah, they're a real scourge on the world, aren't they? Mostly killin' off bums and druggies that don't run so fast. . . ."

"I thought vamps liked the chase."

"We do, but sometimes we like to eat early then watch movies all night."

"What?" Xander said. Spike was clubbing in the head all his ideas about the undead and he didn't like it.

Spike went on, unhearing. "Chasin' a druggy is like goin' after a startled turtle - it's upset, but can't get too far. Regular people, though, that's like chasin' a scared chicken. All the cluckin' and flappin' and runnin' around in circles. . . ." He sighed in remembrance. "Makes it hard to get to a movie before the previews start, you know? And usually that's the best part."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this. . . ." Xander mumbled.

Spike stopped, forcing Xander to also.

"Look," Spike said, awkwardly, "I need a best man, so . . . uh. . . ."

Xander gave him an unencouraging look.

"Anyway, Buffy thinks you should do it," Spike finished quickly.

Xander's jaw dropped open.

"Not like I want you to," Spike said, defensively.

Xander continued to stare.

Spike shifted uncomfortably. "Anyway, there's no one else and I'd jam a dull stake through my chest before I'd let the poofter do it."

"I could do that for you," Xander said, agreeably.

Spike looked annoyed. "Well, if my life ever gets that depressing I'll keep it in mind."

"You mean it isn't now?"

"This is why you only know four people, you know," Spike said, jabbing a finger at him. "Making friends is an art."

"And where'd you get your diploma, Spike? The Salvador Dali Academy?"

"Just because I don't have any doesn't mean I couldn't make 'em. I got charm and over a hundred years of social skills."

Xander decided to let that go and instead said, "Don't you have any demon friends?"

"Vamps don't mix with other demons. They think we're inferior. Bunch of soddin' purists, that's what they are. . . ." he mumbled.

"How 'bout other vamps then?"

"We don't make friends." Spike shrugged. "Not master vampires, anyway. Can't go socializing with the help."

"Oh, now who's the prejudiced one?"

 

  
"Anya, I can't say that your former boss -."

"D'Hoffran."

"Yes. I can't say he was very helpful tonight."

"He doesn't like to give advice, especially when it might do something good. He is a vengeance demon, you know. He thrives on chaos."

"And why the cryptic message?"

"Well, I thought it meant something. I assumed you would figure it out."

"It wasn't remotely helpful."

"I know that now," she said, rolling her eyes. "I think he's still punishing me for being careless." She thought about it. "Or, he was just making a statement. The smell is reaching into his dimension, you know."

Giles stopped. "What?"

She nodded. "He said it's already started a war in a couple others. Each side thinks the other's responsible."

Giles looked stunned. "I had no idea. . . ."

"Demons are very sensitive to taste and smell. Take the Trojan War for instance -."

"You were there?"

"No, but I have reliable sources. Anyway, it wasn't Helen's beauty that launched a thousand ships. It was her smell."

"What?" Giles asked. "That's preposterous."

"She was a demon," Anya said, self-assured. "But the spell she was using to look human and unnaturally beautiful was wearing off. The side effect was this unbelievable stench that had men throwing themselves off cliffs. . . ."

 

  
Spike and Xander stood in the remains of the driveway, staring at the edifice.

The church was old and abandoned, probably due to the obvious fire the place had sustained. Most of the walls and part of the roof were caved in.

"Over here," someone called.

They turned to see Larry waving at them.

Spike and Xander exchanged a quick look, then stalked across to the church.

"You got the stuff?" Larry asked.

"Yeah," Spike said, gesturing at the ice chest.

"Let's get inside. The others are waiting."

A short, round chaos demon ran up and stopped in front of Larry. He looked agitated.

"What now?" Larry asked.

"Some of the guys are ducking out the back -." He broke off, gagging. He started shaking uncontrollably, bits of goo splattering a startled Spike and Xander, then fell to his knees and toppled sideways.

Larry knelt over him. After a brief examination he looked up and said, "They're droppin' like flies. We gotta' hurry."

 

 

  
"Do you want me to kill him?" Angel asked.

"What?" Buffy asked.

Angel removed his arm from his mouth and said, quickly, "Spike. You want me to kill him?"

"No. I'll handle it."

"Buffy -."

"I mean it. No macho ex-boyfriend-running-to-the-rescue bit. Got it?"

Unwilling to move his arm again, Angel nodded.

Giles was walking a few paces behind Buffy and Angel, and talking to Willow.

"You should never attempt any type of spell when you're emotionally unstable," he said.

"You think I'm unstable?" Willow asked, mortified.

"Well, perhaps not unstable," he revised. "But, you should never do spells when you're upset."

Anya said, "Amateurs aren't supposed to do spells without a mentor, anyway. It's like a rookie trying to negotiate with bank robbers. They'll probably get all the hostages killed and let the crooks get away with the money."

Before Willow could reply, Angel said, "I think this is it." He bent over and, hands on his knees, steadied himself.

"You okay?" Buffy asked, putting a hand on his back.

"Yeah, just a little dizzy."

"Well, stop breathing."

"I have. But it's like getting hit in the face with pepper spray. It takes a minute."

"Well, stay here," she said. "I'll yell if I need someone to sweep Spike up."

 

  
Buffy and Giles cautiously pushed open the door to the church, then stood transfixed at the sight before them.

Xander was sitting in the baptismal tank, naked, with demons pouring honey on him. A chaos demon was standing behind the tank, reading in a monotone from the spell book. A sponge demon was standing beside him, holding an axe, while an apathetic audience of demons were scattered around the floor, moaning and holding their noses. Spike was slouched on a pew, perusing a weathered-looking document.

"In all my years. . . ." Giles began, shaking his head, but Buffy cut him off.

"What's going on here!" she shouted.

Everyone in the room jumped, startled, and turned to look.

"Slayer!" one of the demons choked out weakly.

"Buffy!" Xander and Spike said. Spike jumped to his feet and rushed toward her.

Buffy ignored him. "Xander, what are you doing?"

Xander looked embarrassed. "Um . . . they're doing a spell to make the stink go away. . . ."

Giles said, "That's not necessary, Xander -."

"Buffy," Spike said, pulling her away. "We gotta' let 'em finish, luv."

"Why? And don't call me that."

Spike looked hurt. "Um . . . okay."

Xander spoke up. "I signed a contract, Buff."

Spike cautiously handed her the document. She stared at him in astonishment while Giles plucked it from her hands and read over it. After a minute, he looked up and said, "I seriously doubt whether it will hold up in court, Xander, so why don't you -."

"Hey!" Larry said. "It's legal and we can enforce it."

"Really?" Buffy said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You think that piece of paper gives you rights of some kind?"

"Well . . . yeah."

Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"It's okay, Buff," Xander said. "We're almost done."

"I can't believe you're letting them do this to you," she said, moving up next to the vat.

"Hey! Naked in here!" Xander shouted. He slopped honey on the floor in his haste to cover himself.

Buffy averted her eyes. "Where are your clothes?"

"Burned."

"What?"

"Had to. They were tainted."

Buffy rolled her eyes. The sponge demon next to them brought his free hand into view. "Sandwich?" he asked, holding it up to Buffy.

She looked revolted.

"It's ham and cheese," he said.

"Hey," Xander said, craning his neck to look at the demon. "You got any chips? I haven't eaten all night."

"Sorry," the demon replied, biting into his sandwich. "They get kinda' broken."

Buffy stared at them, unable to speak.

Giles cleared his throat. "May I see this spell?"

Larry looked concerned for a second, then motioned to Carl. Giles climbed the steps and stood next to the chaos demon, who willingly handed him the book, pointing at the spell.

Xander, just noticing Giles' lack of blindness, said, "You can see?"

"Yes. We reversed the spell twenty minutes ago."

Realization slowly crept up on Xander. "Hey, that means. . . ."

Larry said, "Doesn't mean you don't have to finish the ritual."

"But, there's no demon magnet spell anymore," Xander protested. "Which means we can lift the repel spell."

"Let's not be hasty," Giles said. "Let me read over this first."

Xander groaned.

Giles moved away, taking the contract and spell book with him, and sat on the nearest pew and started to read.

Spike came up behind Buffy and tugged on her arm.

"They're still a bit antsy, pet," Spike said, gesturing at the demons in the room. "Better stay back."

Buffy looked at him, stunned.

Taking advantage of her momentary silence, Spike dug into his pocket and handed Buffy a piece of paper.

"Wrote this for you, luv." He looked at the ground, embarrassed. "Hope you like it."

Buffy grasped the paper in shock and looked at it. It read, 'My Effulgent Slayer.'

She was momentarily distracted with wondering what effulgent meant, and when she looked up Spike was leaning over the tub, talking to Xander.

Xander groaned in annoyance and eventually said, "Spike wants me to be his best man, Buff." He shook his head and stared at the remains of the ceiling. "If it comes to it I'll. . . ." He frowned, considering. "Hey, wait a minute. . . ."

Spike looked expectantly at her. "That okay with you, luv . . . uh, Buffy?"

Buffy found her voice. "Spike, we are not -."

"What's going on?" Willow said. She and Anya moved to join Buffy and Spike.

"Hey!" Xander said. "Approaching a bare-naked zone! Stay back!"

Willow turned red and came to an abrupt halt.

Anya did, too, with a little less enthusiasm. Angel came in behind them, and stared.

"We could have it here if you want, luv," Spike said, gesturing at the church. "It's kinda' run down, but it's a church all the same. And, the guys could come."

"Guys?"

"Uh . . . yeah," Spike said, unsure how she would take it. "Larry and the others wanna' come. I told 'em I'd have to ask you, but. . . ."

Buffy gazed in horror around the building. Her eyes came to rest on the two sponge demons near the door. They were standing like pillars, a glazed look in their eyes, and swaying slightly.

Buffy turned away from Spike, the poem still clutched in her hand. She fixed her gaze on Giles.

"Buffy, are you all right?" he asked.

"I . . . I . . . ."

"Pet?" Spike reached a hand to her arm.

She shrugged out of his grip.

"I need air," she said, abruptly, and stalked toward the door.

Spike and Xander stared after her, then looked at each other.

"Pre-wedding jitters," Spike said, worriedly.

Xander stared at him. "Spike, I think there's something you should know -." He stopped, realizing what he was saying.

"What?" Spike asked.

Xander grinned. "Never mind."

"Oh, I've seen this spell before," Anya said, reading over Giles' shoulder. She looked at Larry. "Molasses works better."

"Couldn't get enough."

Anya nodded. "Well, honey's a good substitute in a pinch."

Angel and Willow looked at each other, then at the tableau before them.

"This is like the weirdest thing I've ever seen," Angel said.

 

  
Outside, Buffy paced under the moonlight, taking deep breaths, and muttering under her breath. After a minute, she calmed. She stopped and threw her head back, gazing at the stars.

She remembered the paper in her hands and looked at it.

 

  
"You have to do this every week for two months?" Giles asked, incredulously.

Xander shrugged. He was up to his armpits in honey. "Unless you say we can stop." He looked hopefully at Giles. "So, what's the word?"

Giles said, "This is more of a dampening spell than a suppression spell."

"Meaning?"

"It will mitigate the effects of the repellent spell until it's completely gone. Meaning, you're doing in a roundabout way what a reversal spell would have done in less than a minute."

"So, can we stop then?" Xander asked.

"I don't think that's wise. You're well into the spell now and, as I said, it's basically a poor man's reversal spell. It's best to keep going."

"Spike!" Buffy screamed.

Spike turned toward her voice and Xander leaned forward to peer around him.

"What is this?" she asked, marching toward him, holding the paper high.

Spike looked mortified. "You don't like it?"

She stopped next to Willow who snatched it from her hand. She read it then glanced at Spike. He looked at the floor.

"Let's hear it, Wil," Xander said.

"Hey, no," Spike said.

"Fair's fair," Xander replied. "Besides, I think I should get something out of this night."

Willow gave Buffy a brief look, but she seemed dazed, so Willow brought the poem up, cleared her throat, and read,

"Silken tresses from a faerie's loom,

quicken my heart and fashion my doom.

Honeydew eyes and saffron skin,

a siren song and Cheshire grin.

On sacred ground, our moonlit dance,

I bare my chest and await your lance.

My final death I give to thee,

my deadly, sweet, slayer of me."

The silence in the room was morgue-like in quality. Eventually, Xander said, "Not really generic, is it?"

Spike didn't answer. He was feeling the weight of humiliation. He sagged against the tank and looked at the floor. Why did he keep writing poetry that always ended up being read in front of people who despised him? It was some kind of curse. He'd just started wondering if his father had incautiously opened a tomb in his younger days when he heard Angel say,

"That wasn't bad. You're getting better, Spike."

Forgetting his embarrassment, Spike said, angrily, "Got a literature degree in your spare time, did you?"

"Hey," Angel said, holding up his hands, "I'm just saying it could've been worse." He considered. "Actually, I'm surprised it wasn't."

"I think it was nice," Willow said.

"Wil," Buffy said, aghast.

She looked uncomfortable. "Well, it was." She glanced at Spike, then back to Buffy. "I wish someone would write poetry for me."

Unable to take anything more, Buffy whirled on Spike and said, "We are not getting married, Spike."

Spike looked shocked. "Pet -."

"You disgust me, Spike, and no amount of poetry is going to turn you into Prince Charming."

Everyone was silent again, only this time all eyes were on Buffy.

"Wow," Carl said, after a minute, "that was harsh."

"Yeah, Buff," Xander said. "Ouch."

Buffy looked around the room, noticing that everyone was staring at her, the demons in abject dread, and most everyone else in shocked embarrassment. Giles just looked like he wanted to go home. Willow looked upset.

"What!" Buffy said, throwing her arms in the air.

Willow looked at Spike, then at Buffy. Buffy frowned and glanced at Spike. He was staring at the floor, the picture of crushed despair on his face.

Buffy's jaw dropped open. She turned slowly to Angel, who looked uncomfortable. She looked back at Spike.

"Spike?" Buffy asked. "If this is some evil plan, maybe now would be a good time to spring it on me." She waited, folding her arms over her chest.

Spike looked up, confusion and hurt on his face.

Buffy faltered. She looked at Xander. He shrugged.

"Wedding spell's over, Spike," Buffy said, casually.

A startled look crossed Spike's face and he glanced at everyone in the room. They remained quiet, not wanting to say anything that might make the situation more unbearable than it already was.

After a minute, Spike said, hoarsely, "I knew that."

Buffy smirked. "Really? Because -."

Willow hit her in the arm.

"Ow!" She glared at Willow. "What?"

Willow raised her eyebrows at her. "I think enough mean things have been said by everyone tonight to last us until next year."

Buffy looked shocked. "Are you defending Spike?" she asked, incredulously.

Willow shifted from foot to foot. "Well, I'm just saying. . . ."

"He's soulless and evil, Wil -."

Xander cleared his throat. "Prejudice much, Buff?"

"Excuse me?"

Larry walked up to Xander and started pouring the cooking sherry in the tub.

"I'm just saying that not all demons spend their time makin' evil plans," Xander said. "Some of 'em like to watch TV, you know. Eat corn dogs and work at K-Mart. . . ." He looked uncomfortable at Buffy's obvious stupefaction. He mumbled, "I'm just saying. . . ."

Carl poured the last of the honey on Xander.

". . . that not all of 'em are evil," Xander finished.

"Okay, boys," Carl said, "light 'em up!"

Larry and the sponge demon struck their matches in unison.

"What!" Xander jumped to his feet. The honey effectively clung to every part of his body, but it still left little to the imagination.

Willow and Buffy screamed and turned around.

Anya stared at Xander, wide-eyed, until Carl pushed him back down into the tub. He dunked his head under the honeyed surface and stepped back. The matches sailed through the air and landed in the honey, which, due to the alcoholic content of the sherry, erupted in a brilliant display.

"Hey!" Spike said, severely, "you didn't say anything about a cookout." He pushed Carl away and reached into the tank. The fire immediately leapt up and caught his arm on fire. Spike plucked Xander's head up like an oversized apple, then stepped back.

Buffy elbowed her way through, pushing Spike aside, and helped Xander out of the vat.

She studied the tub and the fire. It was sputtering out as the alcohol burned off. "Xand, you okay?"

He spluttered. "Yeah, think so."

"Did it burn you?"

"No. I think the honey protected me."

"That's what it was for," Carl said, handing him a robe.

Xander looked at him. "You couldn't have mentioned the flambee routine before?"

Carl looked absently at him. "Didn't think it mattered."

Willow let out a little scream and Buffy turned around.

Spike was cursing and beating his arm against the wall, which promptly caught fire.

That galvanized everyone in the room. Angel and Giles raced across to Spike, taking off their jackets as they did. When they reached Spike, they started beating at the flames.

"Take off the coat, Spike!" Angel yelled, trying to help him.

Spike tried to shrug out of his duster, but only succeeded in getting it down to his elbows before the fire leapt across his chest and to his other arm. He started howling.

"Why is he still on fire?" Buffy asked, horrified.

"The alcohol," Giles said.

"What?"

Larry held up the empty bottle of sherry. "Sorry."

Buffy turned back to Spike, eyes wide.

"And, the fact that vampires are extremely flammable isn't helping either," Giles said, beating at Spike's arm.

Angel grabbed Spike and tried to get the coat off him.

Buffy glanced around the church, panicked, trying to find something to put out the fire.

"Dunk him in the vat!" Anya yelled. She and Willow were batting at the flames on the wall and had them nearly out.

Buffy acted immediately. She dived across the room, pushed Angel and Giles aside, and grabbed Spike in a bear hug. The fire engulfed both of them.

"Buffy!" Angel shouted.

She didn't have far to go and one lunge carried her to the tank. They toppled into it and the fire was quickly swallowed. Buffy and Spike sank to the bottom, arms locked around each other.

Seconds of shocked silence descended on the group, then Giles dashed for the tub. He thrust an arm in and reached Buffy just as she was pushing herself up.

"Are you all right?" Giles asked.

She looked disgusted. "Aside from feeling like a sticky bun, yeah, I guess so."

"Were you badly burned?" he asked, as she got to her knees.

"Singed, I think."

"How's Spike?" Willow asked.

Buffy, Giles and Angel reached into the tank, grabbed Spike, and hauled him up.

Buffy leaned back in the confined space and surveyed Spike. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Slightly dazed, he glanced around the room, then settled his gaze on Buffy. His eyes roamed her honey-covered body.

"Bloody hell," he said with feeling. "Didn't know you had a sweet tooth, Slayer," he said, smirking at her.

"Spike, you're a pig," she said, and pushed him back under the surface.

Buffy stood and Giles and Angel helped her out.

Giles looked at Larry and Carl. "Are we finished here?" he asked.

The demons looked at each other and took a deep, pleasurable breath. "Guess so."

"Excellent."

"But, they gotta' come back next week."

"Yes, we're well aware of the requirements of your . . . ah . . . contract."

 

  
Outside, the group assembled in the driveway. Giles looked them over sternly.

"Do I need to make the speech about responsibility and restraint. . .?" He looked at Willow and she looked at her shoes. ". . .or using prudence and good judgement. . .?" He stared pointedly at Spike and Xander. Spike rolled his eyes and looked away. Xander gave him a sheepish look. Giles continued. ". . .and how we're never going to speak of this day again?"

The gang shook their heads.

"Fine." He started to walk, but stopped and turned to Spike. "Do we need to tie you up?"

Spike looked disgusted. "Where would I go?"

"Right then," Giles said, briskly. "Don't stray."

Angel looked Spike up and down, obviously preparing a threat. "Spike. . . ." he started, but appeared to reconsider. He sighed in resignation, shook his head, and followed Giles.

Buffy and Spike stood awkwardly, honey dripping off their bodies and pooling on the ground at their feet.

Spike stared at her in obvious admiration.

Buffy looked up. "What?"

"Uh . . . nothin'."

"You were staring."

"No . . . I was . . . uh. Okay, I was. Can't help it." He gestured at her. "What do you expect . . . lookin' like that?"

"Spike," Buffy said, icily, "I don't want your evil, nasty eyes looking anywhere near me. Ever again!" She shook her arms in disgust, splattering honey on him. "Got it?"

"What makes you think I'd want to look at you anyway?" He said, angrily. "Having you kissin' and gropin' all over me all night is somethin' I gotta' live with for the rest of my life." He made a face. "I'll probably never get a good day's sleep again."

"Well, that'll be two of us having nightmares, Spike." She turned and stomped off after Giles and Angel.

Spike followed.

They walked in silence for several minutes, Spike staring at the ground in mortification, but trying to hide it, and Buffy fuming and hurling honey from her limbs with violent abandon.

A minute later, she stopped abruptly and Spike nearly ran into her.

"Sorry, luv," he mumbled.

"What?"

"What?" He looked at her, puzzled.

"What did you call me?"

He looked startled. "I said, 'watch where you're goin', Slayer."

She frowned at him in obvious disbelief. Deciding not to press it, she said, "You're the one who ran into me, Spike."

"Yeah, and you're the one who stopped suddenly."

"Well, you -!"

"Why don't you -!"

They stopped and glared at each other.

Eventually, Spike said, "Did you want somethin', Slayer?"

She sighed. "Just wondering what your evil plan was, that's all."

"Huh?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Pretending to still be in love with me? What were you going to do, Spike? Did you think you could somehow win me over?"

"Well. . . ." A pained look crossed his face as he tried to reason his way out.

"Maybe get me to actually go out with you?" she asked, incredulously.

Spike was racing ahead of her, trying to formulate an evil plan out of what she was saying.

"Worm your way in with my friends. . . ."

Spike brightened. There was a good plan in there somewhere. "Um. . . ."

"Get them to accept you. . . ."

'Not so hard,' Spike thought.

". . .and us. . . ."

'A little harder. . . .'

". . . convince me to marry you. . . ."

'Trickier still, but possible. What's the punchline, though?

"Then kill me on the honeymoon?"

Spike jumped, startled, a horrified look on his face. "I wouldn't -."

Her eyebrows arched, questioningly.

Spike recovered quickly and smirked. "Well . . . yeah."

Buffy gave him the look she reserved especially for him and said, "That's it?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Well, it woulda' had more flair," he said, smugly.

Buffy sighed and glanced skyward in scorn. "Angel was right. You can't make evil plans."

"What?"

She turned on her heel and stalked away.

Spike followed. "I bloody well can too!"

"Right. That one would've taken you years."

He snorted. "Not the way you were hanging all over me."

"That was the spell. And if you mention it again we'll be sprinkling your remains over a cricket field somewhere."

Spike grinned. "You care enough to give me a decent burial, Slayer? I'm touched."

"In the head. . . ."

Behind them, Xander and Anya walked.

"I can't tell you how I need to get this honey off of me," Xander said in revulsion.

"Xander," Anya said, after a minute, "I want you to write me a poem."

A shocked look crossed his face. "What?"

"A poem."

Xander glanced around in desperation. "Poetry's not for everyone, you know."

"What's that mean?"

"It means I can't write poetry."

"It's easy," she said, waving a casual hand at him. "Just say nice things about my exquisite skin and radiant smile."

Xander looked at her. "Maybe you should write it."

Ahead of them, Buffy caught up to Willow.

"Oh, here," Willow said, handing her a piece of paper.

"What's this?" Buffy asked, taking it.

"Spike's poem," she said.

"Why do you think I'd want this?" she asked, disgusted. "It's not like I liked it or anything. . . ."

Willow nodded. "'Course not."

Buffy glanced at the poem. "I mean, a faerie's loom? What's that mean?"

"I like that part."

"And I don't have honeydew eyes."

"Spike thinks you do."

Buffy groaned and glanced at the paper again. "And, is he telling me to stake him?"

"I think he meant his heart belongs to you."

"His dead, soon-to-be-dusty heart."

"Or, maybe he's saying when it's his time, he wants it to be you?"

They walked in silence for a full minute, Buffy gently fingering the paper. "Maybe I should keep it," she said, quietly.

Willow nodded.

"You know, for when he's getting out of line," Buffy said, quickly.

"Right."

"He can be really obnoxious. . . ."

"Sure."

"If he knew I still had this. . . ."

"Uh-huh."

". . .make him sorry he ever wrote it. . . ."

They walked in silence for several more minutes. Buffy had an almost irresistible urge to read her poem again. No one had ever written poetry about her. Did she really have honeydew eyes? She glanced over her shoulder at Spike. He was walking with Xander and Anya, his head down, apparently not paying any attention to either of them or anyone else. Buffy looked uncertainly at the poem again, then folded it and gingerly put it in her pocket.

Spike looked up in time to see Buffy safely tuck his poem away. A pleased grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He noticed Xander giving him a sideways look.

"What?" he asked, defensively.

Xander rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Nothing."

Spike smirked. "You were right, you know," he admitted, "nothing rhymes with saffron."

 

 

The End


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